


Carrion for Crows

by Alexis_Trvlyn



Series: Dissonant Verses [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dark Fantasy, F/M, Friends to Lovers, LOTS of violence, Other, Plot-centric, Rifts have personalities, The Mark is OP, The Mark is semi-sentient, Using the Mark has consequences, Worldbuilding, and it doesn't directly reflect the views of the author, attempt at a semi-realistic battle, bordering on AU, each character is entitled to their own opinions, inquisition campaign but canon divergent, magic has limitations (see endnotes per chapter), passive protagonist, personal lore expansion, protagonist backstory, romance is a subplot, the world is ending and everyone is in a state of panic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2019-10-30 10:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 71,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Trvlyn/pseuds/Alexis_Trvlyn
Summary: Book I: Ellana LavellanDragon Age 9:41A Dalish pariah. A reluctant Herald. An unlikely Inquisitor.Raised outside of Clan Lavellan, Ellana is knowledgeable of shemlen ways no other in her clan possessed. Desperate to prove her worth to her kin, she volunteered to spy on the human Conclave. Little did she know, her decision will thrust the fate of the world on her shoulders.If there truly was a god...He'd beg her for her forgiveness.





	1. In My Arms Lies Eternity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note before we begin...
> 
> The DA world in this fic is a little bit different than the impression we got on the game. I have expanded on then lores based on what I understand of the codices. As tagged, magic here has limitation and mage population is fewer contrary to what we see in-game. Character abilities are slightly more grounded to our reality, so no flipping in the air etc. Moralities are greyer, rampant gore and violence, and I'm hoping that the Inquisition - as an organization - will be more fleshed out. 
> 
> As tagged, how the main campaign progresses will be different. This is due to our main protagonist, Ellana, being a passive character, unprepared for leadership and generally a non-combatant. This story is very experimental and the idea of a passive protagonist being pushed forward to an active position is something I wanted to explore. I love seeing character growth and how circumstances can shape that growth. Ellana has much to learn and she is going to learn them all the hard way. 
> 
> I hope you find the story enjoyable! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Special thanks to [Hezjena2023](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023) for beta-reading! Much love to you!

  


_Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls._

_From these emerald waters doth life begin anew._

_Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you._

_In my arms lies Eternity._

-Andraste 14:11

  


**9:43 Dragon Age**

They lied.

Death was not grim, dark, cold nor distant. There were no cawing of crows. No murder in the sky. The desert heat was glasshoused under a cloudless grey dusk with a tinge of green in some places like worn-out patina.

There was no promise of glory. No trumpet in the heavens to sing her triumph. No requiem to accompany her to her doom.

The proverbial sword arches in the air and Ellana was struck by the simple inevitability of its impending fall.

_How did it all come to this?_

Ellana refused to hear the frightened chorus from behind; harsh, grating whispers carried by the dust-ridden breath of the desert, they screeched: _Inquisitor! Inquisitor!_

In this night of all nights, the people would soon weep at life lost, while she… she weeps at having lived it.

She raced onward, the horse heaving beneath her thighs. She patted the destrier’s mane. Another collateral to a concatenation of complex events. Ellana dropped low, hugging the loyal beast in one last act of compassion. Her guide to the Beyond.

She steeled herself. Staring death in the eye, she reached forward. Immediately, verdant magic lanced her through her very soul. Pure, pellucid and piercing.

Once, in her fevered dreams, she imagined death would come to her like a rolling shadow, trailed by booming and resounding thunder. She expected to crash loudly, violently. It fits her idea of a heroine - a tragic, romantic figure fit for songs.

In reality, it was only white light and a whimper.

Ellana closed her eyes for the last time. The last vestige of her consciousness latched on to the distant place of many years ago. Scrambling in a futile attempt to understand and unravel how she got everything so _wretchedly_ wrong.

Inside the last beat of her heart, the last breath of her lungs, Ellana dreamed.

_That was how it all began, wasn't it?_

A dream and a lie.

_The cause and the effect._

_This is death_ , she realized, _a grave for regrets unwillingly laid to rest._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N August 2019  
> Please, ignore the Comment Section for possible spoilers. I didn't want to delete them and add new chapters because some of the convos are priceless to me.  
> A/N September 2019  
> Changed the summary.  
> A link for references and ~~made-up and stolen from real life and histories~~ codices for this fic's world-building headcanon [Dissonant Verses World Expansion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612495/chapters/48942137). This will be updated as story progresses ~~because I'm such an obsessive geek~~.


	2. The Conclave I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Divine Conclave was held in 9:41 Dragon, as an attempt to peacefully end the war between the mages and Templar Order. Organized by Divine Justinia V, it was held at the newly restored Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Valo-Kas mercenary company was hired to provide protection at the Conclave, as a neutral party to stand between templars and mages.
> 
> Representatives for both the Templars and the mages were sent to speak with the Divine to discuss the possibility of peace between the two groups. 
> 
> Ellana, Adahlon and Tarel travels to Ferelden from the Free Marches to spy on the gathering on the behest of their clan's Keeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Hezjena2023](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023) for beta-reading! Much love to you!

**2 Years Ago...**

 

**9:41 Dragon Age**

 

It began with a dream.

The kind you forget once you wake up only to leave you feeling troubled, a gnawing feeling that somehow it had never truly ended. In this dream the sky was dark.

It was always dark.

The wind turned Ellana’s golden-white locks into tiny brutal whips. Moisture and salt clung to it, stinging her cheeks with every slap. White sands were beneath her, tiny hot beads underneath her soles. Despite the thick darkened clouds, the brilliant white shoreline made her squint hard like her eyes caught the glint of a mirror against bright midday sun. At the edge of the shore, the oppressive, shadowy waters churned. Beyond it, there was no horizon. Only eternity.

The void. The abyss.

The belly of the beast.

Tethering on the horizon was a frail figure that stuck out against the perfect division of white coast and black seas. She was still, her clothes and hair unaffected by the turbulent winds.

“Ma?” she called out.

Ma’s cheeks were glistened and she turned away.

Ellana moved closer and held her hand. It was cool and clammy.

They stood like that for a while. Hand-in-hand. Standing at the edge of the shores where the delineation of sandy waters met pitch-black ink, wrapping around their ankles and dragging them like lazy fingers.

“Come, Ellana,” Ma said.

Fear settled in her gut. Ellana tugged at her hand testily. The grip only tightened. Her flailing turned to desperation but ma’s grip was visceral.

“Come.”

Her tiny feet were swallowed by the sand as Ellana struggled. The shores vanished. All she could see was the ghostly white face smiling and calling out to her in that voice that sang wrong: **_EL-LLA-NA._**

A loud crash hit her right in the chest and she stumbled back. Her lungs started to hurt. She tried to scream but liquid salt flooded her lips and sipped through her nostrils. It stung.

_I can't breathe...I can't breathe...I can't...._

Something pulled at her shoulder. She tried to struggle feebly but the shaking only intensified. Air assaulted her in a brutal rush. She gasped.

“Ellana!”

Ellana coughed. Hard. Someone had patted her mildly on her back till her breathing calmed. The first thing she noticed was that she was cold. And damp. Adahlon’s face peered at her worriedly.

He had woken her under the simple lean-to tent they made for the night. Rain drops hit her in between the leaves. Ellana forced her bleary eyes to open wide, wiping the crust with the back of her hand.

“Ellana. Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“We need to move, _da’len_."

It was still dark and the fires had long been stomped out. She saw Tarel fiddle with the string of his bow as he stood outside, waiting. Adahlon slung her pack towards her. Traces of sleep made her move awkwardly and the crude shelter almost fell on her head when Tarel dismantled it quickly.

Her heart was still racing.

“We will be able to make it to West Hill by the morrow.” Adahlon explained, facing south west and eyeing the lowlands from their vantage point.

They were camped along the ridges of the Fereldan Coastlands and their backs were to Highever, where their ship had docked. Jader would have been preferable, but dealing with Orlesians were far more trouble than it’s worth. Being Dalish made it even more complicated. Which is more than fine to Ellana. She hated ships. She didn’t know how long she could stand being inside the floating coffin.

Adahlon eyed her sideways. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

His concern made her unusually irritable. “Yesss…” she replied exasperated. Adahlon shot her a reproachful look. Shame made her look down and she amended, “I’m fine, _ba’lin_.”

He wasn’t convinced but thankfully dropped the concern all together.

After clearing the camp and hiding their trails, they began moving out. The two adept hunters moved nimbly, Ellana almost stumbled after their quick feet. Rain made the ground slippery and the horizon a variation of grey tones. The moroseness seemed to greet them as soon as they landed on Fereldan shores. Had she been superstitious, Ellana would have thought the weather unwelcoming – ominous, even. Instead, it only made her think of how her footwraps squished uncomfortably. Fortunately, Keeper Deshanna had enchanted them to make them warmer. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought to make them water-proof. Every step she made, brown mud and water now bubbled between her toes. The relentless torrent of rain only served to emphasize her inadequacies.

She moved loudly, stepping on every twig, rustling every leaf and now stomping in every puddle. She wiped the raindrops roughly from her face to no avail. Her wet bangs flattened against her wide forehead while the tips of her hair got stuck quite often and uncomfortably at the corners of her thin lips. Cutting it short was her way of avoiding the drudgery of having to braid them day after day after day – missing out on a favorite Dalish past time - thank the gods or whoever it is listening nowadays.

Ellana sighed.

All those years since she moved in with the clan, she had not acquired any of the grace the Dalish elves have prided themselves with. Despite growing up in the clan for almost a third of her life, she was still considered an outsider.

The _harellan's_ daughter.

She had no outstanding skills that the clan would consider beneficial. Reading and counting in Trade is only useful when they deal with humans and dwarves. Something that only happens occasionally rather than often and is pretty much rather avoided in general. The only advantage she can think of is that she is young and in her prime. Every Dalish child is celebrated after all. For Elvenan or some such - yada-yada. It's not the most ideal of prospects but if it's her only option to stay...well, Ellana thinks she can make the most of it.

But even that seemed unlikely.

No man from her clan would propose to bond with her despite her having a cordial relationship with quite a few of them. Most thought she was just plain bad luck and was content to stay away. There were the occasional cocky ones who consider her a challenge to ‘conquer’. But the worst were the clan's women. They were the ones who made her very self-conscious. She had her mother’s looks, they would say haughtily, a face that can cause a man to sin.

But then again, she was no classical Dalish beauty. She did not have the prized heart-face, the petite and willowy figure. She looked chunky in comparison, soft and rounded on the edges where lean muscle should be. She had a frail constitution, the kind one has when they are reliant on others to provide for them. She didn't even have one callous on her finger. _Shemlen_ qualities, her clanmates called them. The markers of a scorned union: an elven and a _seth'lin_. It was a point above a halfling or halfbreed - those who have human and elven parents.

The only reason most of them tolerated her was because of their shared pointed ears. Keeper Deshanna tried her best to quell the prejudice. So does Adahlon and Tarel.

Still, without any value to her clan, would it truly be unreasonable to presume that Deshanna would one day be forced to cast her out?

She looked up to her companions' backs as they moved further and further away. Ellana doubled her pace as she gritted her teeth with determination. The Conclave is her only chance to prove herself. Be of use.

_Then maybe they could learn to accept me._

Deep in thought, she almost slid unceremoniously on some ankle-deep puddle. She caught herself before her bum reached the ground. Sloppy mud splashed up until her thighs. Tarel turned and eyed her from head to toe. Then he snickered. _Ugh. Why was he her friend again?_ She had half a mind to sling some mud to his smug face. Instead, she grabbed leaves and wiped the dirt that clung to her thighs and shins. She passed one between her toes. Ellana sighed. She missed wearing shoes.

Now that they were nearing their destination, their pace turned brisk. They’ve been travelling as long as there is light. Lunch was quick and dinner and short sleep is the only stop they make. They stuck close to the Imperial Highway. It took four days to reach the Hinterlands and another three to reach the foot of the Frostback Mountain. Caravans and its entourage, mostly humans, were sighted frequently the closer they get to Haven.

The three kept their distance from populated track. Ellana understood that humans distrust a group of unknown elves, especially one that screamed ‘Dalish’.

Ridiculous rumors of them torturing humans, dabbling in dark magics and sacrificing children were often repeated enough that the lore became ingrained in human society. It’s a good rumor to keep them out, bad when you intend to trade, worse if you’re caught spying.

The trek to the mountains was perilous. The nearer they trail the human pilgrims, the more careful they were to remain inconspicuous. Other than the threat of exposure, thieves and thugs attract such a crowd. It was Adahlon who ensured they were safe from danger.

He’s the first Hunter of Clan Lavellan. The green tint of Andruil’s _vallaslin_ exacerbated the angularity of his face and made his age lines less noticeable. He watched his surroundings carefully, a wry glint shining in his wood brown eyes. Adahlon would often scout ahead and when he stalks, he was a blur of moss green and leather brown in the tree lines. His bow, a constant companion, was like an extension of himself and a prayer to the Huntress in every draw.

Tarel was his Second, the shadow at his back. While Adahlon tasked himself with the group’s safety, Tarel hunted for their meals. Ellana tended to their camp, not being a hunter herself.

Ellana and Tarel grew up together. Adahlon became their surrogate parent when Da dropped her off to his care without so much as an explanation. While Tarel lost his parents after a violent dealing with humans.

At the second night of their trek, Tarel was off. Ellana and Adahlon huddled behind an outcropping of a huge rock. The mountain breeze carried the tension and murmurings of the pilgrims they had been shadowing. They remained downwind; a good position for listening in and avoiding being listened to. The Mage-Templar War had everyone on edge. It has been the Fereldan concern lately especially that the Crown had allowed the rebel Mages to settle in Redcliffe.

Ellana half-listened, absent-mindedly tapping her fingers to an imaginary tune while Adahlon carefully selected kindling to ensure that their campfire would produce cleaner smoke as possible.

“Here.” Ellana jumped as Tarel dropped a few pieces of clothing at her knees. Tarel smirked at having surprised her, Elgar’nan’s vallaslin twisted on his face. It had always been a game of his, preening at his slyness. “Put it on and be quick about it.”

Ellana rolled her eyes and muttered, “Show off.”

She heard him chuckle as she left to find a secure spot to dress. She rummaged the pile. It was a set of clothes and a pair of shoes, fit for a commoner. Stolen, of course. There were elven servants with the human travellers, after all.

Ellana immediately relieved herself of the leather armor and wore the garment. Everything fits her delightfully. It was in plaids of browns and the inner garment was made of worn cotton while the over-tunic was stitched with layers of lambswool meant for colder climate. There was even a fur-lined cloak that looked more finely made than the rest. But the most pleasant of all was the pair of ram-skin boots. She squirmed her toes in pleasure.

She returned to her companions, her old armor packed. Adahlon eyed her from top to toe, nodding to himself. “Good, you look like one of them.”

“Like a flat-ear.” Tarel sniggered. While she knew Tarel meant nothing of it, Ellana’s face still burned.

“Tarel.” Adahlon reproached.

Tarel just shrugged.

The older hunter grumbled as he rummaged through some pack – stolen, again – and brought out two small round containers made of tin. He handed them to Ellana and she opened them. It was vinegar and chalk paste and an accompanying red powder on beeswax. Beauty implements. “Your _vallaslin_ is naturally light. I believe these will hide them completely.” He explained

Ellana felt for her cheeks. Her skin was still slightly raw from where the mark of Dirthamen lay imprinted.

The Keeper had run out of ink during her part of the ceremonial rite and what should have been deep woad became a ghostly blue. There were more than usual number of youngs on the tether of adulthood who had taken blood-writing then.

It didn’t escape Ellana that she may presumably be the oldest in the history of clan Lavellan to have her vallaslin at the age of twenty-and-one. It didn’t help too, that she kept flinching and Deshanna had to redo them several times.

“As if the gods themselves are unsure of you,” Hahren Isene said. Sneer, really. That time, Ellana really didn’t need superstition to take a hint. Out of all, she had always been the most terrible to her. The bitter old coot.

She scooped a large amount of the stinky white paste using her finger and applied them evenly on her face. Next she applied the rouge cream. She had seen many human women wear them, especially in Wycome whenever she was in the city to assist Ivun, the smith, whenever they are required to trade; a pinch to the cheeks and a few dabs at her lips. She eyed her handiwork in the gleam of her never-been-used steel dagger. Once she was done, she presented herself.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Finely done,” Adahlon said smiling. He ribbed the young hunter by his side. “Am I right, Tarel?”

Tarel looked like he was caught stealing. He let out an undignified choke. Adahlon chuckled.

“What? Caught your tongue, Tae?” Ellana teased.

Tarel was beet red and Adahlon let out a deep laugh.

“ _Mythal’enaste_ , I’d rather listen to the shems.” He stood abruptly and left. Adahlon winked at her that made Ellana flush in return.

"What?"

“You underestimate your qualities, da’len.” He chuckled, “Now, if only Tarel will tell you instead of making himself a nuisance.”

Ellana just shrugged. "Tae's just being an idiot."

Adahlon gave a noncommittal hum and sat closer to her by the fire. He wiped some of the rouge from her cheeks. “It won’t do good to attract… too much attention.”

Then gave her a worried frown.

Ellana knew that look.

“I can do this, _ba’lin_." Ellana smiled with all the false confidence her fear mustered for her. "Besides, it’s not like the clan had people lined up who can read common fluently. You kept saying that we all have to take part of our duty to the clan. This is mine.”

Duty was half the truth, anyway. There are more personal things at stake for her. Surely, Adahlon wouldn’t begrudge her of keeping that. And so, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. Adahlon's lips twitched like he was about to say something, but in the end he only ruffled her hair affectionately. Still, the wrinkle in his brow did not disappear. He motioned for her to wait and he left to his pack. A moment later he was back with her again. “Here, I’m supposed to give this to you after your rite.”

“What is it?”

He handed something down to her. It was tightly wrapped in oiled cloth. She had not received a gift in a long while and something in her eyes must have revealed her delight for Adahlon’s frown temporarily broke for a smile. She unwrapped the package hurriedly.

It was a dagger.

The hilt was made of ironbark of the finest quality, inlaid with leaf-like design made of halla horn, much like its sheath. Near the pommel was a circular motif encrusted by a single crystallized lyrium. But what caught Ellana’s eye was the blade. It was as long as her forearm and looked like ordinary iron except when it caught light, then it would gleam in an array of colors, patterned to form bands. An intermix of two metals, perhaps?

“It belonged to your father.” Adahlon said. “He was supposed to receive this after his rite but, well…”

Ellana fully unsheathed the blade and tested its weight. It was lighter than her steel dagger. Her fingers drifted to its flat side. “The blade. I’ve never seen anything like this from Ivun’s forge.”

Adahlon nodded, “It is made using iron and pyrophite – an uncommon metal found in the Dales. Your grandfather had this made especially for him. It is enchanted, said to strengthen one’s resolve in the heat of battle. It is yours now.”

His eyes were intent on the gleaming dagger, perhaps taking him to a different time, a different hand wrapped around its hilt. Ellana inspected the knife as if it contained answers within its metallic surface. She finally sheathed it with a clink. Quietly she spoke, “…What was Da like before?”

Adahlon looked thoughtful. “Stubborn. Impulsive. A whole lot of trouble.” He chuckled. “Very much like you.”

“Do you think the clan will ever take him back?”

A beat passed between them.

“I don’t know.”

Ellana felt her chest cave.

“Perhaps, in time. It is not easy for the clan to accept… the consequences his actions wrought.”

“You mean his betrayal.”

Adahlon stilled. He had on a pained look before he cleared his throat.

“Your father and I, we were _dirtha’isa’ma’lin_ – oath-brothers. When your father brought you to me six years ago, I swore I will look after you like mine own…I do not take that promise lightly.”

He pulled at his long braided, black hair. There were a few silvers there now that weren't before. He twisted at the leather strip, a nervous mannerism, Ellana has long learned. He continued.

“We grew up together. Finest hunter if there ever is one. I once saw him shoot an elk 300 paces away. A clean double-shot. I remember being envious then. We were children and he got all the accolades. Everybody knew he was to be the clan’s chief hunter. And all the girls in the clan swoon for him.”

“And instead he chose Ma.”

“Yes.” The word felt heavy and Adahlon’s shoulders slumped.

Ellana never thought one choice could be so damning.

Adahlon exhaled deeply. Against the cackling fire, the old hunter looked weary. Finally, he turned his penetrating brown gaze to her. "Ellana. Your father made unfortunate decisions over the years. You may forsake the man, but he always knew where his heart is and has always strived to do right by it. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

Ellana felt a lump in her throat and the only thing she could do was nod. She had avoided this topic for a long time. Afraid of the pain it could bubble up to the surface.

Ever since Da plucked her out of the life she knew and left her to Clan Lavellan with barely an explanation, she had wanted to pretend he did not care. That he had abandoned her. She was forced to bear the consequences of his choices and actions. And knowing that he had deliberately placed her there. She wanted to be angry. For years, Ellana convinced herself she was angry.

But the years had outlived her resentment. Instead, what remained was regret. Regret, that she had not taken the time and opportunity to get to know and understand her father. She just accepted all the derogatory things the clan said about him, accepted as the others watched and waited for her to follow in his footsteps. For years, she had doubted him, despite the memories they had shared. Memories of laughter and love that faded in her dreaming childhood. That it took her now to suddenly reconsider made her feel like an utter fool.

 _Da’assan,_ he called her. His ‘little arrow’.

Ellana heaved a sudden tear. Adahlon laid an arm on her shoulder as she cried on his worn leather. He had initiated the conversation before but she had shut him down. Like a true hunter, he was patient. He had waited her out.

She was grateful for that. She did not believe she was ready then. But now, she wanted to ask more, to understand him and lay all mysteries to rest.

But a soft rustle alerted them to the dark. Adahlon reached for his bow and Ellana recovered her hands to the dagger. The familiar figure of Tarel came forth and they both sagged with relief, that quickly flared to annoyance.

“What?” The young hunter was dumbfounded by the sudden hostile look. Ellana and Adahlon shared a glance.

The moment had passed.

“Nothing. I’ll take first watch,” she said to the young hunter and turned quickly to wipe her face with her sleeves. Adahlon nodded and dampen the fire.

Ellana sat at the rock that gave her more visual advantage. She hugged the dagger close to her chest.

It felt warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Da'len - child[return to text]  
> 2\. Ba'lin - uncle, shortened[return to text]  
> 3\. Harellan - traitor to one's kin[return to text]  
> 4\. Elvenan - misspelling of the term Elvhenan, meaning 'place of our people'[return to text]  
> 5\. Seth'lin - thin blooded, derogatory term for city-born elves[return to text]  
> 6\. Da'assan - little arrow[return to text]  
> Special thanks to Fenxshiral


	3. The Conclave II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spying at the Conclave was not as easy as Ellana expected. Integrating with the populace proves to be a challenge. But she is unaware that the true hardship lies within her goal itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Oct 2019: Thank you so much Hezjena2023 for beta-reading!!! 
> 
> Also, will work on the Notes codes in the future.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Time had come too quickly and before the sun had fully risen, Ellana prepared for her trip to the town of Haven. It would be a few more hours before light would begin to veil the Frostback.

Adahlon had given her his spare strapping so she could keep Da’s dagger near her person. Ellana adjusted the leather to wrap around her waist and down to her thighs where she intended to keep it. She stored the make-up kit by her satchels and straightened her cloak.

“Ellana?”

“I’m ready, _Ba’lin_.”

Adahlon appeared from behind an outcropping, a soft worried smile on his face. He eyed her from head to toe, his frown never wavering. “It’s a short trip now.”

“Yes.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Perhaps, I could come up there with you. Keep to the shadows…”

Warmth spread to her heart and a grin to her face. “No.”

“No?”

“No!” Ellana burst out laughing. “Ba’lin, you’ll be like a cat pretending to be a mouse. Haven is not a woodsland. You’ll be lost in it and you’ll probably blow my chance to get close to the Temple.”

“I am not a cat.” He grumbled. “And I am offended you think so little of my skill to adapt.”

“It’s not that. You’re just...you know.” She motioned towards him with her hands, emphasizing his wild woodsman look. Ellana refrained from giggling at his deepening frown. “You’ll be like a sore thumb sticking out. Sorry.”

She stooped to pick up her knapsack and made to leave, but Adahlon stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

He tried his best to be nonchalant, but she could see doubt danced in his eyes and dribble past his low whispers. “I do not like sending you in alone, da’len. You are not trained in the Vir Tanadhal. And now you will go out into the world alone and without knowledge of how to defend yourself! It was unwise of Deshanna to have sent for you.”

Ellana knew that Adahlon was just worried, but his skepticism of her stung. She stiffened defensively, “You know the way of the hunter is not for me.”

“Be that as it may, I should have tried harder to teach you. To keep you safe.”

“ _Ba’lin_. It’s not yours or the Keeper’s decision alone. I volunteered for this, too. You taught us to honor our duty to the clan, remember? _Halam’shivanas_.”

“ _Halam’shivanas,_ ” he repeated. But the words seemed to choke him.

“Hey, Ellie!” Tarel called out, Ellana mentally thanked him for his intervention. “You done? The pilgrims won’t stay idle for long.”

“There’s my cue.”

Resigned to her stubbornness, Adahlon let go of her in defeat. She embraced him. The contact surprised the old hunter but he quickly returned them. He was reluctant to let go.

“I’ll be fine, _Ba’lin_.”

Ellana could see he was too emotional to say anything.

Tarel was standing outside their now cleaned encampment. He had studied the rotation of patrols around the town and proposed that sneaking in Haven directly was far too risky and suspicious. He barely made it in and out of there. Instead, there was a new group of travellers coming in and this one was mostly poorer pilgrims looking for Divine Justinia to protect them amidst the escalating turmoil. Ellana would blend in with the group a few miles before reaching the town. It was the safest bet.

"I secured a dead drop so we could safely track your progress.” He took a stick and drew a basic map of Haven. “Up north there’s a gate, along the Mage’s encampment. There’s a loose stone in the walls along here. I drew a sign so you won’t forget,” he scratched a succession of simple shapes. “Tuck it there and we’d get it.”

“Why the northern wall?” Ellana asked.

“It’s near the Mages and they are piss poor watchers. They’re too used to being in them towers.”

“How about their mines or their barriers?” Adahlon inserted.

“Nah, they glow.” He pointed the stick at her, “Keep your eyes peeled and don’t touch the glowy things!”

She made a mock salutation and they both giggled. Adahlon disapproved of their rather light-hearted take on the situation but Ellana needed this, this semblance of normality. Once she entered Haven, she will be alone for the first time in years.

She tapped Tarel in thanks and pulled all the confidence she can muster. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“ _Da’len_.”

Ellana halted. Adahlon let out a loud breath.

“Ellana, promise me that you will not do anything rash.” Ellana was about to say something but the look on Adahlon’s face made her tongue still and she opted to wait him out. “I know the clan was not the home your father had envisioned for you but know this: you are my daughter now, too. You belong there as much as any of them. We are your family. You need not prove yourself.”

She felt her body shake. There was a glint in Adahlon’s eyes that made Ellana felt he knew.

Of course he knew.

“The old man’s right,” Tarel said. “…And, _Mythal ma halani_ , don’t cry.”

She dabbed the tears in her eyes, “I… am not…crying.”

“Right, so it’s just snow leaking out of your eyes then.” Ellana laughed and sobbed at the same time. Tarel lifted her in a tight hug. “Get back in one piece, squiggly-feet”

“Enjoy sitting on the snow, toad-face.”

The three of them shared the familial moment with quiet affection. Adahlon squeezed her hand as she slowly left their camp.

“ _Mythal’enaste, da’len_.”

Ellana turned and watched Adahlon and Tarel as they saw her off until the thick canopy of pine and evergreen closed in on her sight like a final curtain.

 

* * *

 

Haven was a circus.

Activity burstleft and right and myriads of people arrive every hour; nobles and their servants, pilgrims and purveyors. Templars. Mages. Merchants. Mercenaries. Optimists and pessimists. Ellana was shoulder to shoulder so much with the crowd that she felt them bruise with each shove and push. She headed to the tavern to listen in, but it was packed so much that it reminded her of fishes squirming in futility inside a barrel.

Outside was only slightly better.

The village was like a dark mole against the pristine white of the Frostback. The snow had long melted amidst the rampaging feet, revealing the deep brown dirt beneath. The town was set up with in an elevated terrain with its own parochial Chantry sitting at the highest level – a simple Fereldan architecture of stone and wood. Hovels of timber scattered along the descent. The tavern was found at the mid-level and in the lower level is where the Loyalist Templars, those who remained loyal to the Chantry, held their barracks. Inner stone walls surrounded the small town, its entrance a lone sturdy wooden gate.

Beyond the inner wall were cluster of tents as far as the eyes can see. Most of the transients stay there. Down south, across the lake, was the 'other' Templar encampment or those that followed Lord Seeker Lucius after their supposed defection to the Chantry after dissolving the Neverran Accord.

To the north, as Tarel informed her, were the defunct Circle mages who was led by the former Grand Enchanter Fiona. In between the two opposing factions were mercenaries and the Fereldan Crown’s men, keeping the peace and ensuring that both parties does not lead the tension towards aggression. These groups were reinforced by another layer of outer stone walls.

Ellana kept her head low.

Human society is more complex than a Dalish community. But like all groupings, there is a basic mechanic underneath the supposed chaos. A pattern. There are roles to be played; the key is to recognize what.

Unlike her clan’s ways where each individual was tasked to bear their own weight towards their survival autonomously, humans prefer to group their people in a stereotypical fashion. They’re far larger and more populated so they clump their people in groups whose defined by their jobs, or class, and far less likely to care about you personally – only the part you play in the larger whole. Quite like a less efficient Qunari. Less creepy, too.

At the very least this made their hierarchy obvious and ingratiating easier.

Desperate people are just as quick to remember who harmed them as to who helped them.

Ellana picked her targets carefully.

She made sure she was visible to the taskmaster and proceeded to help best she can. She followed the lead of other servants, mimicking their actions and always doubling over to assist. At first, they were wary of the stranger, but the need for an extra hand outweigh any doubts. People started trusting her and soon enough, she was made to do errands on her own.

Very few people paid attention to elves and Ellana played it to her utmost advantage.

Ellana memorized much of the notable conversations and every night she would leave coded notes by the dead drop. She stayed in this routine for five more days, patiently waiting for her opportunity. She had not seen her companions at all but they would leave something at the dead drop. A sketch of patrols, sometimes a food or two, which is very much welcomed. The gruel the humans have been serving are starting to taste like moth eaten parchment.

Progress was slow; everyday it was just the same fearful gossips getting more ridiculous with each retelling. Most of the relevant guests stayed in the Temple not down in Haven. In turn, relevant information too was far from Ellana's accessibility.

Still it was obvious that the negotiations between the Mages and Templars were going downhill, fast. Gossip is: Divine Justinia called for breaks frequently to avoid bloodshed. The missing Left and Right Hand of the Divine had caused people to feel equal hope and dread:

“What does it mean?”

“Maybe, the Divine got some tricks up her sleeves.”

“I heard they were sighted near Kirkwall.”

“What?”

“Maybe they was lookin’ fo the Champion.”

“But she’s an apostate!”

“Heard she was made Viscountess. Married some prince.”

“Mages can’t hold office, you daft.”

The dissolution of the Nevarran Accord is indeed worrisome, but Ellana doesn’t precisely know what Deshanna wanted to learn in the Conclave. Would it truly change their dealings with humans? The Chantry didn’t care much towards the Dalish. And the Templars were already suspicious of them to begin with. Will the infighting distract them enough to not bother with them? Or will it make everything worse?

If a war truly comes, where would they go? Where could they go?

_Ellie, catching two deer will give you none._

Right.

Gathering information was all she needed to do. Perhaps Deshanna would make sense of these ramblings. Knowledge is never a waste, after all. It helps them avoid hostile humans and have leverage in negotiations whenever they had to deal with them.

It was her eighth day in Haven now and she prepared for it like any other. She didn’t know that the day promised more. Later that morning her opportunity finally arrived in the form of a grumpy human.

“Oy, elf.”

Ellana turned, eyeing her surroundings before pointing questioningly to herself.

“Yes, you.” The taskmaster grumbled. He was a thinning man who looked older than he probably was. He waved a parchment as he wobbled towards her. “You look a tad smarter than the rest.”

“Ser?”

“You read?”

Ellana nodded.

He all but slapped the parchment to her palms and pushed her over the waiting carriage filled with barrels.

“I need you to take this delivery up to the temple. ‘Important people’ tend to drain the larder quickly than any intruding rat. This is the inventory.” Tapping the parchment in her hand. “Templars up there will do the lifting, all you need to do is ensure everything is right where it needs to be. Well? What are you gawking for? Chop-chop lass!”

The inventory was a listing of wines, Ellana read. She boarded the carriage of two mules and prodded on.The way to the Temple was a cleared dirt track and the climb up was eased. Loyalist Templars – who wore knitted red cloth with a golden sunburst symbol to their upper arm to distinguish them from the defectors – patrolled the path, along with hired mercenaries and the Crown’s men. There were checkpoints in every stone bridge she had crossed. Handing the letter to them cleared her quickly.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes sat like a crown above the frigid slopes of the Frostback Mountain. It was made of timber and stone like all Fereldan architecture. But unlike the Haven Chantry, it has a notable wider base with small windows of colored glass patterns that shines from the soft warmth of candlelight within. The building was sturdy and proud, built to last. The size was comparable to most castles she had seen and probably just as large – if not larger – than the entirety of Haven. Following the cleared slopes, she reached the Temple’s gates with little fanfare.

“Halt.” Two guards in Templar armor came forward. “State your business.”

Ellana handed the ruffled paper for them to check. “Wine, ser. From taskmaster Edwin?”

The Templar folded the parchment and gave it back. He motioned her to go right, leading to an arched partition.

There were cartloads of oxen, deer and boar meat being washed near a well. Barrels were rolled and fruits and vegetables carried around on baskets. Ellana led the carriage along the dirt track heading to the outer kitchen where there is a flurry of servants that moved with exacting precision. Their superior training was evident in contrast to the barely organized rabble of those down town.

She stood in the middle like a lost cog. It was a bother enough to the workers that they began bumping and stumbling with one another. Quite like seeing a perfect ant line disrupted. A haughty man with a tasteless side burn approached her. He wore an all-white clothing with matching white hat and apron. A head chef, perhaps?

 _“Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire?!”_  

Orlesian, great.

“Wine, ser. From taskmaster Edwin?”

The man let out the most theatrical snort Ellana had ever seen or heard. He waved her around while flurrying a string of Orlesian-babble. Ellana tried to give him the parchment and finally succeeded, but the man merely glance at it, crumpled and threw it. He screamed at her. _“Vous attendez à ce que je suive les ordres d'un porc de Fereldan? Lapin insensé! Retourne dans ton terrier. Je ne veux pas que mes aliments soient contaminés par une vie basse comme toi!!!”_

He began ordering men to take down the barrels and pushed Ellana aside that she almost stumbled, face first to the entrails within the fish bucket. “Oof!”

The butcher eyed her, annoyed. _“Dégage, lapin.”_

But Ellana couldn’t be bothered by all the rudeness as her heart felt elated. She can’t believe it. She was in!

She immediately took note of her surroundings. The flurry of activities could mask her movements. This was her chance. She needed to move fast.

There was a trail of well-dressed elven servants entering through the kitchen proper. Ellana followed suit. The pretty girls, in clean cotton striped gown and apron, hurriedly took serving trays. Ellana followed them until a slap of a feathered duster stopped her. _“Vous!”_

Startled, Ellana turned towards the voice. A plump woman who wore the same white cotton gown pushed a broom and a dust pan in her hand. _“Rendez-vous utile et nettoyez la cave, vous lapin.”_ She says, while pointing her towards the opposite direction. Ellana played along.

The way was headed to the cellar. She pretended to clean for a minute or two until she was sure that no one was looking for her. Slowly, she crept out of towards the passageway.

There were two directions: the one she came in and the other deeper to the temple.

She chose the latter.

The temple was a labyrinth. She wandered from room to room, her heart thumping loudly at every step. If she was found, she had no excuse and no one to save her. Adahlon’s fears reverberated in her mind. Her hand found the dagger hidden in her thigh. She exhaled a steady breath. She can do this. She has to.

There was soft murmuring to her right. Ellana stilled. Her breathing slowed as she strained for the source of the sound. A muffled moan then a soft shh. Someone giggled. Ellana’s head swiveled towards the shadowed alcove. She pressed herself against a corner and narrowed her eyes. In the dim light, her elven sight saw the silhouette of the two lovers.

“I really want to feel your body against mine.” Ellana heard the man whisper. A light and loose drawl. Free Marcher? The girl let out a strained giggle. “I want to see you. All of you.” He continued, his voice dropping lower. Sloppy sound followed. Oh, gods. There was only one path, and this pair of heated twats were blocking it.

Ellana was almost embarrassed for them. If they were trying to make it a secret, they were doing a terrible job at it. Their squishy sounds echoed in the long hall. There was a rustling sound, and popping. The girl sighed, “Wait, oh…Wait. Mmmmph. Hah, ah…I – ah, I know a place.”

“Truly, my dove?” Ellana rolled her eyes.

The girl was totally buying it. Her thick Orlesian accent wrapped at every word. “Oh, yes… mmhmm… I know my way around here, m'lord. Follow me.” In her corner, Ellana saw the two eloped in the same direction as her destination. Ellana desperately hoped they find a room this time.

The changes in the interior slowly became apparent as she moved forward. The walls were no longer plain stone but made of fine redwood. The hallways were wide with wooden carvings at every few feet; mostly mabaris and Fereldan floras. Banners hang around and there were tables filled with delicate vases. The floor was carpeted and everything within was themed with red, white and gold - Chantry colors.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was not just a place of prayer – it was a castle fit for the richest noble.

The servants moved to and fro. Everyone was so busy that they ignored the poor cleaner with a broom. She heard a ruckus as what she thinks was the main hall. There were several doors that connected to it, swinging with the number of well-dressed people coming in and out. There was music and a long table abundant with food but none of the guests seemed to be paying it any mind. They all seemed to be busy talking and arguing.

It was impossible to hear from her side and her unkempt condition would make her conspicuous against such a crowd. Ellana proceeded further down the halls instead. She tried all the doors along the hallway. Most of them were locked.

Except one.

She entered quietly only to find herself face-to-face once more with the lustful paramours. Well, face to butt really. And they were really going at it. Ellana felt her ears redden. That…didn’t take them long.

She hurried out but stopped short of the door. Clothes lay crumpled beside the waist-high wardrobe. There were silk brocade tunic, cotton pants and a handkerchief with an ‘A. Trevelyan’ embroidered on its corner. Beside the pile was a pair of boots and shoes then a clean white cotton striped gown.

Wait.

A clean white cotton striped gown.

A devious smile spread to her lips.

Gown in tow, she left as quietly as she came. Safely in the shadows, she put the gown on. She wiped the grime off of her face and re-applied the face powder. She found a polished steel plate and pats herself in the reflection.

She looks passable. She stuffed the used cloth inside the metal armor. With her broom and dust bin in tow, Ellana headed out to hallway once more. Chin up, walk purposefully and the guards paid her no mind. Never mind that she has no idea where she is now or where she is going. Ellana wonders if it would be dumb to ask for directions. She gritted her teeth and kept heading right. That’s the only thing that makes sense at the moment.

“Who’s there?”

Ellana’s heart almost jumped out of her throat. A guard just crossed a corner she just passed. The scaled mail marked him as one of the Crown’s.

She squeaked, “I-It’s me.”

The guard eyed her warily. “What are you doing here?”

Ellana swallowed. “Umm…cleaning?” She waved her broom for emphasis.

Silence.

“Who’s your housekeeper, girl.”

Shit. “My h-housekeeper?”

The guard took a careful step forward. Hand on the hilt of his sword. Oh, shit! SHIT!

Ellana threw the contents of the dust bin at his face and bolted.

She heard the guard shout behind her. But he was in heavy armor and she in light clothing. And boy, could she sprint.

She ran and ran and ran. She can hear nothing but the fear pounding in her heart. Ellana kicked the uncomfortable shoes off her feet and her bare soles landed quietly on the furry carpet. She ripped the corner of her gown to allow her bigger steps. She slid and swivel until all she can see is the possibility of escape in her narrow focus. She lost her broom in the entire flurry.

She heard the familiar music of the main hall trickling and panicked. More people means more guards. She spun to the nearest corner. The tell-tale sound of clanking armor could still be heard. Another loud stomping sound came at the end of the hall. She rounded another corner.

And froze.

It was just another hall. But it felt...different.

Menacing.

The hair on her skin began to stand.

The loud clunk of steel and barking mabaris jolted her. She swallowed her trepidation and jumped forward.

It was as if entering a spider den. Everything felt heavy, like the place seem to dissuade her from moving. There was a feeling of invisible cobwebs draping all over her body, never mind she was wearing clothes. It felt like forever as she swam inside some kind of unseen gelatinous thing. It was suffocating. She waved her arm around to the empty ominous air. With fear hounding in her veins, she found the strength to press on.

The moment passed and she fell forward like one would when you missed a step. She quickly pushed herself up, and with a loud inhale, she ran once more without looking back.

Luckily, the temple was a large and complex structure.

She rounded another corner before pressing her back against the wall. She eyed the aisle she passed warily. It was silent. She watched for a few moments, letting the stone carry any echo of movement.

There was none.

Ellana slumped against the wall, relieved.

After spending a minute to catch her breath she stood up, bare feet and in a tattered dress. It doesn’t matter. She just needed to move forward. It is truly unfortunate that the temple had no windows. It would have been easier to simply jump outside and be lost in the woods. Of course, she’d die of cold then. Lovely.

The hallway she was now in was bare and cavernous. It was pretty simple, no doors or any corners to turn to. Unlike the rest of the place, the area looked plain and desolate. And very, very cold. She crossed her arms to herself to contain all the heat to her body, still she shivered.

Ellana kept moving forward, ears straining for any sound. There were only her footsteps.

It was eerily quiet. Unnatural. Not even a draft of wind or the soft tinkle of music that seem to permeate other parts of the temple. All those rush and tension exhausted her and each step made her legs shake lightly. She was lost, hungry and scared.

A light persistent tap on her thigh startled her.

She hitched the gown and found her dagger vibrating. The force of it made her entire left leg tremble. What made it odd was that it wasn't just a random shaking but rhythmic.

Curious, she placed the dagger on the floor. It skipped with unnatural consistency. The lyrium was glowing like cat's eye. She pulled it back to inspect it further and it was then she felt an electric current ran from the tips of her fingers and all the way back to her spine. There was a subtle energy, strong enough she could feel it!

And it felt like pulling.

Against her better judgment she followed it. There was a huge double-door at the end of the hall. She laid her ears flat and listened. It was deathly quiet but the nearer she was the intense the vibration became. She looked back to the empty hallway then back at the door. Maybe this is what Deshanna was looking for?

 _It could be dangerous._ That…sounded like Adahlon.

Of course, her voice of reason would sound like him. Figures.

She stuck an ear to the door.

Nothing.

 _There is no activity on the other side_ , she argued back to her head.

 _That doesn’t mean there are no people, dangerous people_ , the voice retorted.

She could be very, very quiet.

_And if it’s some sort of dangerous magic?_

Tarel’s simple wisdom echoed:  _Don’t touch the glowy things._

Ellana had made up her mind. She didn’t intend to go back to Deshanna with her tail tucked and empty-handed.

_It's now or never._

She tightened her grip on her dagger and pushed the wooden door open. And froze.

Her voice of reason was right. There were people on the other side.

Terrible people.

She was stunned and startled. In a haze of fear, she heard her voice say, “What’s going on here?”

Then there was shouting and her world was filled with green light.

Pain seared to her left hand. She screamed and in a blink of an eye, it was gone.

She crashed onto a rocky surface; mist swarmed her that smell strangely of roasted meat. It made her hungry. Thick smoke made her cough and she covered her mouth with her arms. Where was she?

Something glowed at the distance.

There were sounds all around her. Trickling, like many thousand feet. She climbed and climbed until a golden hand reached out to her and pulled her up. It was warm and felt like relief.

The last she remembered were white lights and a sound like something large was ripped.

She felt fear so strong it blotted everything away.

Of what? Of what? What was it?

Like one of her dreams, she forgot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Halam'shivanas - sweet sacrifice of duty[return to text]  
> 2\. Mythal ma halani - Mythal, help me[return to text]  
> 3\. Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire? - What is the meaning of this?![return to text]  
> 4\. Vous attendez à ce que je suive les ordres d'un porc de Fereldan? Lapin insensé! Retourne dans ton terrier. Je ne veux pas que mes aliments soient contaminés par une vie basse comme toi - You expect me to follow orders from a Fereldan swine? Foolish rabbit! Go back to your burrow. I don't want my food contaminated by a low life like you.[return to text]  
> 5\. Dégage, lapin - Get out, rabbit[return to text]  
> 6\. Rendez-vous utile et nettoyez la cave, vous lapin - Make yourself useful and clean the cellar, you rabbit.[return to text]
> 
> Special thanks to Fenxshiral and google translate and to MohnblumenKind for the HTML tuts!!!


	4. The Wrath of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the repercussions of curiosity. Ellana got more than she bargained for. How hard can it be to control a magical ability that could potentially destroy worlds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again Hezjena2023 for beta-reading! I love you!

Chains rattled at her wrists and ankles. Ellana opened one bleary eye. She grunted as moved, her shoulder ached from lying on one side on the hard stone floor.

The cell was damp, dark and mossy. Around her, four armed men watched her warily, their swords unsheathed. She could hear a commotion from the far end door and one of the guards tapped her back with the flat end of his sword.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Pain thundered through her veins and she cried.

A flash of green light burst in her left hand.

Her vision momentarily blanked and when they returned, swords were pointed across her throat.

The door banged open. Two human women strode in.

One was dark-haired and tan skinned. She was stunning in a sort of feral way. All long and sharp boned with a menacing scar which lined her cheeks down to her jaw. She walked with a military gait, chin high and purposeful. The other was quieter in her entrance. A natural beauty dampened by dark hood that failed to hide the acuity that flashed in her clear blue eyes. Stray red locks escaped as she straightened out, almost becoming one with the darkened corners of the cell.

The warrior woman strode at Ellana and growled, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” She didn’t wait for a response as she paced the cell like a hungry lioness. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended died, except for you.”

What?

All eyes trained on her as the accusation resounded. Ellana could feel her heart skipped a beat. “…I-I d-don’t – ”

“Explain this.” The woman grabbed her hand and the green light crackled on the contact. The fear in the air was so palpable it felt like a stretched rubber, ready to snap. Ellana felt her body go cold. “I…can’t.”

“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?!”

Ellana flinched, “I-I don’t k-know what that is or h-how it got there!” The woman grew more terrifying by the moment. “P-Please! Y-You have to b-believe me!”

“You’re **LYING**!” The warrior unsheathed her sword and Ellana felt her entire body go rigid. Instinctively, she closed her eyes as she waited for the sharpened steel to lop off her head. She felt the powerful ‘whoosh’ as the blade swung before her followed by a loud ‘clunk’ as it stabbed the floor half an inch from her thighs. Ellana thought her heart would burst then and there.

“We need her Cassandra.”

The red-head was touching her companion’s arm as she spoke calmly. Cassandra looked at her colleague and grunted. She pulled her sword in one fluid motion and sheathed it once more. The other woman strode forward as Cassandra retreated.

“This will be a lot easier for you if you cooperate with us,” her voice had a smooth liquid quality. Like poison.

Ellana could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She started to sob. “I swear, I don’t k-know… P-Please.”

“Perhaps you remember what happened? How this began?” she pressed.

Could she? Ellana wracked her brains. How did she come to this? The more she thought the more her skull seems to compress. Jumbled pieces came through. It felt like squeezing a waterskin for its last drop. But she tried. Ellana really tried. “I…remember running. Things were chasing me…And then…A woman.”

“A woman?”

“…I think she reached out to me…But then…agghhhh!” A wave of pain settled in her temple and she doubled down. The moment her mind stilled the pressure passed. Ellana let out a groan of relief.

There was a moment of silence as the two humans stared at one another. A look of alarm passing between them.

Finally, Cassandra spoke, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the Rift.” The red-head looked at their prisoner once more then nodded and left. With snap nod from Cassandra, a guard unlocked the chains that bound Ellana’s legs and pulled her up. The one on her wrists remained. She wobbled slightly but with a rough grip, Cassandra steadied her and began dragging her forward.

“W-Where are you taking me?”

Cassandra tightened her grip, “It is better if I show you.”

They began their steady trip upward. The cell was beneath the Chantry in Haven Ellana soon realized. Cassandra escorted her outside. The town was different from the last she had seen it. There was an air of panic that turned to hostility when the citizens’ gaze turned to Cassandra and her. But all of that paled against the greenish storm cloud looming in the distance.

It was as if the hand of god punched a giant hole in the sky.

Suddenly, the cell became more appealing.

Ellana finally found her voice, “H-How…wha –?”

“We call it the Breach. It is massive Rift in the Veil that was caused by the explosion from the Conclave. It is not the only such Rift, just the largest.”

“I don’t understand…how can an explosion do that?”

“No one knows." Cassandra said gravelly. "So long as the Breach expands, the more Rifts appear, the more demons we face. Soon enough, it will be large enough to swallow the world."

Ellana swallowed. Cassandra's eyes narrowed.

"And the magic that had caused this is connected to that Mark in your hand.”

Ellana stepped back. “I-I didn’t do this!”

As if to prove Cassandra right, the magic in her palm began to ache. Then there was a bright flash from the heavens followed by thunderous peal after. Ellana’s body felt like it was set on fire and she keeled over, screaming. Cassandra was quick to catch her head before it hit the ground. Ellana’s body jerked and contorted. The human woman had to crush her with her weight to prevent her body from doing her more harm.

Cassandra began whispering a mantra hurriedly then a shimmering aura filled them both and like a punch in the gut, Ellana felt all her breath left her body at once. The magic in her hand sputtered and died only to return a moment later ten times its original force.

Ellana screamed as the pain reignited. Cassandra was holding her down, harder than ever. The spasm ended for what seemed to Ellana like hours. She was sobbing uncontrollably at the end of it.

Cassandra was staring at her, a horrified look plastered on her handsome face. “I…I thought dispelling it would help. I had not imagined such…adverse reaction.”

“Do you…honestly think…” Ellana wheezed, squeezing her left hand. “…I would do this…to myself?”

Cassandra looked visibly troubled. “...The magic is undoubtedly killing you.”

She helped her up, supporting Ellana's weight. There was an alarmed look as the warrior held her more tightly than necessary. They walked forward, Cassandra half-carrying her. The little outburst had gathered many onlookers. Most looked distressed and those that made contact with Ellana gave her the evil eye. There were some who prowled closer, their casual gait betrayed by their tight face. One was testing the weight of a rock. Cassandra was rigid against her. Without looking at Ellana, she spoke, her voice low.

“They’ve decided your guilt, they need it. When the Conclave blew all hope had died with it. Divine Justinia had sought peace and we thought we were prepared for it. And now she is gone and our world is under threat worse than any Mage or Templar could ever conjure.”

Ellana stared back at the sky and swallowed.

“Open the gates!” Gate guards immediately complied. Cassandra reeled on her. She fiddled with the iron in her chains and it fell to the ground with a clang. “Come, follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where the Breach began.” Cassandra said, “The Mark on your hand is explicitly tied to whatever had happened. You may be the key to stopping this.”

Ellana watched the Breach as she would a guillotine. Cassandra followed her gaze and exhaled.

“There will be trial. I can’t promise more.”

If she survived.

Ellana nodded grimly. Once more, her life was beyond her control.

The two kept pace from one gate to another. Along the way, Cassandra insisted she arm and armor herself. It was a simple leather bodice with padding and a pair of daggers, one on her waist and another kept in her boot. Everything was large, human-sized, and Ellana huffed as she tried to follow closely behind Cassandra.

The Breach in the sky glowed a sickly green, vomiting essences of the Fade from its large gaping maw. Brilliant light struck ahead of them, spattering debris were it hit followed by a thundering clap. Ellana’s ears rang and her thighs ached from running uphill. The Mark on her left hand responded to its kin in the sky, sending jolts of pain reverberating through her left arm. She hissed when another unnatural light struck to the ground.

“Can you hear the fighting?” Cassandra shouted amidst the world-ending pandemonium. Her black hair matted by snow and ash. Ellana was too tired and in too much pain to reply and she needn’t have too.

Cassandra unsheathed her blade and charged forward. “We must help them!”

Ellana followed the woman up the steep path. The leather armor that Cassandra has so kindly forced her into jiggled uncomfortably on her figure. A group of fighting men were amassed in front of a smaller Rift. It looked like iridescent and translucent gossamer waving with its own breeze as it hung above ground. She watched mesmerized with fear and awe as shadowy and horrific creatures seem to materialize out of thin air. The surreality of their form juxtaposing to the solid canvas of the snowy crags had the vagueness of dreams.

It felt so unreal that it made Ellana stop and reassess her sense of reality.

Then Cassandra broke her reverie as she jumped into the fray. When the soldiers saw her, they screamed their battle cries.

Despite the chaos, Ellana felt her body being pulled towards the strange green light. Beyond the Rift, colors unlike anything she’d ever seen swirled. Enchanting and inviting like oil spill on clear puddle, forming shapes and memories so deep she didn't know she had them.

Something washed over her; it felt like being submerged in a bucket of icy cold water. Blue light cascaded to her skin followed by a gentle tingling then… **WHAM!** She flew forward like a boulder had smacked its entire weight to her spine. Her knees scraped first to the iced floor as she skidded, followed by her chest and chin. Her hands splayed, fingers trying to catch friction on the smooth surface. Sleet made her entire body swivel like roulette, forcing her to face her attacker.

Her heart hammered through her ribs. Looming before her was something vile and monstrous. It was dark and spindly and greenish like vomit. Gnarled finger-like limbs twitched near her face. Its teeth-rimmed neck curled as their eyes met. Ellana never saw something so twisted in her whole life.

She tried to kick herself into an upright position but her whole body was induced in some form of waking nightmare. her joints do not work as they were supposed to and her feet felt dipped in lead weight. The creature screeched and she let out a terrorized scream in return.

The demon swiped and she curled in on herself, unwilling to see the deadly blow. Magic hummed at her skin as its claws made contact. It slid harmlessly. The demon let out another shrill that stilled every nerve in her body. It swiped at her again. And Ellana was certain it would be her end.

A blast of ice froze the demon mid-strike. A bolt pierced where Ellana assumed a skull was supposed to be, and the creature dissipated, leaving dark liquid on the ground between her ankles.

An elven man quickly came to her aid. He shouted something she didn’t catch and pulled her up so quickly she almost stumbled anew. Fear drove her strength back as she realized where he was taking her. The Rift! Its beauty frightened her, bright and all-consuming. She tried yanking her arm back, but the elven man held her in a death grip. He pushed her hand through the Rift.

The buzzing in her head increased ten-fold.

The light crackled then ebbed through her hand. The sudden surge of magic made her arms recoil and he let go. She staggered back, causing her to lose balance and fall on her back. Current ran within her arm painlessly, gone before she could comprehend. He hovered over her and a calming magic enveloped her like a cool breeze. She shivered. The buzzing stopped.

Ellana realized it was her screaming.

“You alright there, Glowy?” A dwarf came to her view. His voice was gentle, sympathetic. She did not trust herself to speak so she nodded. Or she hoped she was nodding. Her neck refused to move. She heard Cassandra grunted behind him.

The elven man knelt beside her, his hands glimmered blue as he worked his magic over her. “She shows no sign of physical injury.”

“Thank goodness your barrier got in time, Chuckles. She would have broken her back on the first hit.”

Cassandra interjected, wiping the ichor off her blade, and strode forward barely acknowledging what has happened. “Your supposition was right, apostate. I suggest we head to the forward camp.” Ellana saw her glance at her before looking back to the mage. “Immediately.”

“A moment to breathe wouldn’t hurt, Seeker," the dwarf said.

The elven mage stood from his crouching position. “We can all breathe better once we are done.”

The dwarf shrugged. Ellana jolted when warm fingers curled on her hand. “Come on, Glowy. Up we go.”

The dwarf pulled her to her feet. Her legs buckled like a newborn halla, but he held her firmly. She wallowed at the comfort he so easily gave her. She had half a mind to dust herself, partly to give her time to collect her raging emotions and to look less a mess than she really feels. Beneath her feet, she saw the snow stained yellow and suddenly felt, too aware, of the dampness between her breeches.

Her face flushed. She had wet herself.

She saw him stare up and down so quickly that Ellana wanted to cry there and then. He pretended not to see and gave her a strained smile. “Name’s Varric Tethras. So, what do we call you?” Ellana tried to her work her jaw but it refused to move. Varric had patted her hand gently. “Unless, of course you prefer the nickname. Glowy suits her, eh?”

“If one simply wishes to state the obvious,” the man called ‘Chuckles’ replied dryly. He is pale, freckled and bare-faced. His baldness accentuated the protruding long ears that mark him as one of her People. His clothing was rough and non-descript, very un-Circle like – an apostate, Cassandra had said.

“Ellana,” she said when she finally found her voice. She looked at them all over and swallowed. “…Of Clan Lavellan.”

“I’ll call you Glowy if it’s all the same to you,” Varric smiled.

Ellana finally got a good look at Varric. He was odd, for a dwarf. None of that ruff and gruff. He was suave both in posture and speech. He had a roguish grin and a twinkle in his light brown eyes that made him shifty despite his apparent friendlier disposition.

Cassandra interrupted curtly. “We need to move. Now.”

“Well, you ready, Glowy?”

Seeker Cassandra rounded quickly, “None of this is your concern, dwarf,” The Seeker still had her sword unsheathed on her other hand and her grip tightened, “your help is appreciated –”

“You will appreciate it more when I come with you to the valley,” Varric cut her off. Cassandra was about to protest but the Dwarf was quicker, “Dear Commander Curly will need all the reinforcements he could get. Considering there are very few fighting men and women left now the Conclave’s failed. You need me.” He gave her an shit-eating grin.

Ellana's eyes met Cassandra’s. She must admit, the woman made her feel small. She breathed easier when it quickly slid towards Varric who took them nonchalantly. Cassandra finally gave her assent with a resounding grunt. She sheathed her blade. “If you are all quite done, follow me.”

They all marched ahead of her except Varric, who waited for her to make her step towards the group. “Us prisoners should stick together,” he said as he nudged her. He kissed his crossbow and winked, “Bianca is excited.”

Skirmishes dotted their travels from time to time. Varric took the burden of watching over her, never allowing her to leave his side. Ellana also noticed the mage glance clinically at her from time to time. Cassandra barreled through the snow like a cannon, leading the group towards the hill where the forward camp and their last stronghold remains.

They recovered their supplies and reunited with Sister Leliana and a Chantry official called Chancellor Roderick. They had been arguing about what to do to the prisoner. Her, specifically. It would have made her uncomfortable being addressed like an absent entity if not for the coil of panic that made a home deep in her gut. She was to be executed under the law of the Chantry for ‘murdering’ the Divine and innumerable others at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, causing the Breach and endangering the lives of the people of Thedas. A crime she does not recall committing, but the evidence pointed mercilessly to her as the culprit. The Mark flared in response to the Breach, seemingly affirming her guilt to their eyes.

“She may very well be the only one who can close the Breach,” Cassandra shouted her argument. “We must reach the temple immediately!”

“You will follow the directives of the Chantry, thug.” Roderick slammed back.

Cassandra’s face glowered. She strode forward in full height, towering Roderick with her indomitable presence. “You do not command me, clerk.”

For once, Ellana felt relieved of Cassandra’s display of intimidation. She finds that she doesn’t mind it at all, if used to defend her life.

“She is capable of closing the rift?” Leliana smartly interjected herself between the two. Cassandra nodded her affirmative. “Good. Justice will wait after the immediate problem is dealt with.”

“You both are the Hands of the Divine and yet you’ll let Justinia’s murderer walk free without punishment?!”

“How dare you –”

"Seeker Pentaghast," Leliana used Cassandra's title to lightly admonish her. It seemed to work. With a gesture towards the mountain, the sister pointedly ignored the rattling bureaucrat, “Commander Cullen is holding the bulk of the demons up ahead. Seeker, your team can go through the mountains while the rest of the forces can charge in for a distraction.”

“We’ve lost scouts on those paths, Leliana.” Cassandra wondered aloud.

"Perhaps, but it's the best route to ensure that the prisoner will not be overwhelmed by a horde of demons before reaching the source of the Breach."

As if to enrage the Chancellor further, the Seeker turned to face Ellana and she felt her guts jumbled within her. “How do you think we should proceed?”

All eyes were on her. Ellana opened her lips to reply, but the words did not come out from her mouth. Bile threatened to rise, instead and she quickly snapped her mouth shut. Roderick scowled while Leliana shifted her weight, face impassive. She tried to blanket her mind but pervasive thoughts of ‘horde’ and ‘demons’ threatened to coax whatever was left of her stomach. Seeker Pentaghast assessed her.

“We’ll charge,” Cassandra announced finally and Ellana let out a strangled breath. She stared at the Seeker so hard she thought her eyeballs would jump out then and there, but she bit whatever nervous protest that bubbled in her tongue. She didn't think her suggestion of 'running' would go over well at all. Seeker Pentaghast advanced, “Leliana, you need to reinforce the Commander with all the men we’ve got. This may be our only chance.”

“Understood.” Sister Leliana nodded as she called her agents and every able-bodied men and women at the camp to arms.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” Roderick spat.

The four of them climbed wordlessly towards the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The idea of facing of so many demons wracked through Ellana. Midway, Seeker Cassandra almost literally carried Ellana towards their ordeal as she dawdled at her steps. Near the mountaintop, magic burned in the air as demons poured out of Rift after Rift. The foreign magic in her palm crackled wildly at how often she had to use it. Her only relief is that it required so little of her direction to actually close them, the Mark seemingly having a mind of its own whenever she neared the green tears.

At the center of the largest skirmish was the Commander of the forces. Curled blond hair and silverite armor stained black with demon blood. The three of her companions jumped into the fray, together with the remaining soldiers, overwhelmed the last of the demons.

“Cassandra,” Commander Cullen nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m glad you came when you did.”

The surroundings still cackled green suggesting another possible Rift. The two warriors eyed them grimly.

“All hope is not lost,” Cassandra locked eyes with her, her voice had the lilt of something she can only describe as entreating. She could feel the Seeker's desperation. “The prisoner may be the key to ending all of this.”

Cullen’s golden gaze flicked to her and she stiffened. “I hope they are right about you. We lost a lot of people getting you here.” Ellana bristled at the wave of hostility and suspicion.

“Commander,” Cassandra interjected, “gather the remaining forces and hold the ground.”

Cullen nodded resolutely, “Maker be with you, Cassandra.”

“You as well.”

They proceeded towards the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. As they got nearer, Ellana’s eyes began to tear up. Acid like heat clouded their sight. With a wave, the elven mage managed to clear the sulfuric mist within the group’s parameter. The air wafted and the thickened fog made Ellana scrunch her nose from the pinching scent.

The smell.

It was not truly unpleasant. There is the odd mixture of metallic tang and an underlying sweetness like a flagrant onion. Her stomach grumbled. Ellana had not eaten since she awoke and gods only knew how long she had lain there in the dungeon. Her mouth started to water.

But then, she lifted her head and was eye to eye with a charred corpse. Its bubbling red features twisted in anguish, empty burning sockets with its mouths agape in perpetual torment. And to her horror, there were more. So much more.

Ellana fell on her knees and retched. A gruff hand tucked at her collar and pulled her onward. Ellana clamped her nose with both hands. The smell of cooked meat still lingered. Her hunger forgotten and she felt sick.

“…Red Lyrium,” Varric’s muffled voice spoke behind her.

Ellana looked up. Littered at the expanse of the ruins were red, pulsing mineral like formations. There was a heaviness oozing out of the thing and she recoiled in fear.

“That’s where the soldiers found you,” she could feel a tug at her neck as Cassandra lifted her grip on Ellana’s armor. The warrior pointed to some corner, but she truly did not care, she just wants out of here. "You went out of a Rift then fell unconscious. They said a woman was behind you."

"I fell out of a Rift?"

Cassandra nodded grimly.

But that would mean… no. The last anyone ever set foot in the Fade physically they corrupted it and became a Blight upon the lands. A darkspawn, creatures of death and decay. Ellana looks at the Mark on her hand. Evidence of her corruption.

_Gods...What have I gotten myself into..._

They were now at the heart of the explosion that caused the Breach.

She could see tendrils of the Fade reached to the ground as if it were the hand of the Maker Himself.

It was beautiful.

And terrible.

The Mark on her hand began to burn and the Breach pulsed in kind, as if in greeting.

Being close to the source of a larger Rift, the largest they had encountered, Ellana felt sensations that she was never aware of before. There was a low hum under her skin where waves of magic tickled under and over. Like a ripple across the still waters. It was a silent drumbeat that maneuvered each thumping rhythm of her heart. Ellana never thought experiencing magic could be so intimate.

A memory trickled in her mind. A time when she was young and the infinity of the sky was all the mystery that went unanswered. The caravan had just stopped for the night, erecting their homes wherever the road was calm enough for rest. That was her life before clan Lavellan. With Ma and Da, Ellana was content. During such a time Master Biggs was in his laboratory, eager to show an excitable young child many of his alchemical tricks.

She remembered he once told her that the entire universe was simply a bag full of tricks. A very, very vast bag, but a bag nonetheless. Lump within are a multitude of ways of manipulating it, to bend the material world to your will. Magic was an obvious one. Lyrium, too. But there are other, more discreet, ways. _Find the right tools, harness the right energy and having more wit than a bronto is often enough_ , he had intoned to her as he made fire shine like sapphire waters.

These are the times when the dwarven man was pleasantly drunk and smelling like oiled metal and sulfur.

 _Real magic’s in here._ His wiry hair snaps straight like a ramrod, its edges sizzles with sparks as he taps his temple with his working gloves – something about...Conducive? Conclusive? Conductive? Whatever. What she enjoyed were all the bright colors and the surprisingly loud bang that usually followed his little experiments. And without fail, he jumped back from his work and had a combustible laugh at the expense of his singed beard.

Ellana remembered laughing with him.

Even in Clan Lavellan, magic was not a commodity and was used sparingly. There was the light glow of healing, soft like fireflies in daylight, used only during serious injury. A scrape on the knee only requires a salve of elfroot, after all. The first and only time she saw magic cast with flourish was when Deshanna had to light their _Er’arlise_ bonfire, a festivity dedicated to Sylaise, when the twigs were not dry enough for the usual kindling. It was a two-second spurt of fire.

To her, that was all magic was. Just a trick.

And yet, the pain in her hand is real. The hole in the sky is real. And here she was, a fool still waiting desperately for the punchline.

“You made it. Thank the Maker.” Ellana turned and saw sister Leliana came out of the corner. Her dark mauveine veil covered the rest of her visage save her bloodshot eyes, same as with the fighting men she brought with her.

Cassandra moved towards the ruined balcony, head tilted high. She motioned for them to follow, jumping off the protrusions until she reached the lower ground, nearer the Rift. Everyone followed suit.

The Breach in the sky sizzled.

Everyone stood at the ready. No demons came out; instead a loud booming voice burst from everywhere. Large dark shadows grew near the impact point of the Breach. It made Ellana’s skin crawl.

**Now is the hour of victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.**

_Someone help me!_

“What the –!” Cassandra exclaimed. “That was the Divine. What is the meaning of this?!”

“The Fade bleeds in this place,” the mage supplied.

_What’s going on here?_

Ellana jolted. What? That was her voice. What is going on? Cassandra glowered at her and she started to panic.

**An intruder. Kill the elf.**

The apparition evaporated. Everyone was stunned.

The Seeker was the first to recover. She grabbed Ellana by the collar and pulled her off her feet, “The Divine… She called out to you…” Emotions flickered in Cassandra’s face. Confusion. Hope. Fear. And finally it settled with anger. “What happened?” She shook her. “What are we seeing?!”

“I – I – I d-don’t k-k-know!”

Chuckles laid his hand gently on Cassandra’s wrist, barely touching. “This Rift was not sealed properly. What we saw were most likely memories of what had happened.”

That, or uncertainty, seemed to subdue Cassandra as she let go of her and started to pace. Ellana dropped to the ground unceremoniously. The mage pointed his staff towards the large Rift. “Seal this and we seal the Breach.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Cassandra interjected, robbing the question off of Ellana’s mouth.

“This Rift is the key. Whatever ritual happened here must have been interrupted," Chuckles continued to address Ellana and she dreaded the next words that poured from his lips. "You must re-open the Rift and close it securely once and for all.”

“That doesn’t really sound like a good idea.” The lightness in Varric’s voice felt forced.

“So long as the Breach remains, the Mark on your hand will continue to expand,” Chuckles continued as if it was she who spoke. “If we do not close it now, we may very well lose our only hope.”

Cassandra’s turned to face them, Ellana first then to men and women behind her. “That means demons, stand ready!”

She heard Leliana give out orders and re-positioned all the archers with her. Everyone moved with practiced precision, surrounding the Rift at all angles. Her companions unsheathed their weapons, poised and at the ready. Even Varric looked like he belonged, with his face schooled into focus. All that remained was her.

Ellana stood against the Rift, the magic they shared seem to pull her through. It felt like falling.

She was paralyzed and terrified.

Chuckles broke through her haze with a commanding voice. “Reach for it as you did before.”

Cassandra readied her sword and shield, voice imbued with strength and conviction. “We’re right behind you.”

Ellana looked around the expectant faces, hiding the tremble that was her heart. Her eyes returned to the menacing green light. Tentatively, she walked towards the Rift. Shaking hand raised high, she tried to will the Mark to do as she bid. She imagined opening a closed door, her fingers clutching a phantom doorknob and twisting her wrist slightly. She felt the Rift react to her.

What she did not expect was opening a Rift was not the same as closing one.

She felt something had ripped her palm and she yelped in painful surprise. The magic caught on and she became a prisoner to its invisible hold. The Rift seemed to screech at her, muffling her own horrified scream. A burst of light impacted her and sent her reeling to her back.

Before her was horror made flesh.

The behemoth was kneeling. Its body was seemingly made of smoke and lightning. All seven eyes opened at once, rolling around its lids until it narrowed in on her. Then its mouth split. The sound that erupted from its depth curdled her blood. Ellana felt all her resolve fled from her body. She shrunk before its terrible glory. The demon cackled proudly and all she could do was bow low and pray for its mercy.

An arrow zipped by.

“Face me, creature!” Leliana’s muted voice seeped through her muddled thoughts.

The demon blinked, its spell broken. Ellana felt her blood returning in a rush and she was suddenly light-headed. Her ears rang. She barely registered the shouting behind her.

“– wy!”

She tried to stand but all she could do was kneel and support herself on one arm. Her Marked hand felt limp like rubber. She gnashed her teeth as the drilling in her head intensified. She looked up and saw two Cassandras fighting at a distance. Earsplitting cracks and sharp bright light sent her brain on fire.

“G – !”

The earth shook and she fell once more, face first.

“– Up!”

Everything was a blur. Ellana tried to crawl, but only managed an inch before something barreled through her. It all happened so fast. One moment, she was lying prone and alone then all of a sudden her entire world was spinning. Something cushioned her fall.

Chuckles.

He was panting hard. She looked at him, dazed. The floor wouldn’t stop swaying. His mouth was moving, but she heard no sound. He looked panic-stricken and then his eyes flashed. A sudden surge of magic filled her making her ears pop with its pressure. Then the silence lifted. There was a choir of cackling and rallying shout all around her, overwhelming in their rising crescendo. The mage shook her roughly once more.

“Can you hear me now?!”

Ellana lips trembled, but she managed a nod.

He extended a hand and helped her up. Her head tilted upwards, the Rift had grown even brighter than last she’d seen it. Near it was the demon it spewed, large and menacing. Cassandra's tall height barely made it to its knees. She saw them fight hard to keep the demon at bay. Dead bodies lay around. A few fell as she watched, blackened by purple fire. A moment too late, that would have been her fate.

Chuckles had pushed her out of danger.

“We will distract the demon. When the opportunity comes, you must seal it!” When Ellana did not respond, he roared, _**“QUICKLY!”**_ He did not wait for a response this time. With a gesture, an invisible wave of magic propelled him into the fray.

With her focus returned, she felt the pinpricks that ran up and down her left hand, intensifying her every pulse. It hurts.

Everything hurts.

Ellana curled her fists to keep it all at bay. She concentrated on her breathing. _In…Out…In…Out…In…_

She saw the surviving soldiers strike the demon in tandem. Chuckles’ cold magic crackled in the air, freezing one of the demon’s legs. A powerful strike from Cassandra forced it to kneel. It let out a deafening screech. She closed her eyes instinctively.

A steady voice whispered.

_Eyes forward, Ellie._

She forced them open.

_Eyes forward._

Her body curved low, fingers flexed.

 _In._ She exhaled slowly… _Out._

_...In..._

Then she ran.

And ran like she never ran before. Ellana felt her muscles strained to the limit. She screamed, pushing herself forward. A current almost grazed her back, raising all the hairs on her body. Still she kept on, doing her best to ignore the lightning whip that crack and lash on her periphery.

_Eyes forward._

With a terrified yell she extended her Marked hand to the giant Rift. The reaction was immediate.

She felt the magic clamped at her veins and tried to drag her in with the strength of a thousand galloping horses. She held onto the reins, trying and failing to pull it close. The raw power lashed back at her like innumerable whips. Its slaps ran through her body increasing in strength and tempo. She felt her entire being fold in pain. It was agony she had never felt before.

Horde of voices moaned, pounding at her ears in unison as it chanted discordantly.

_**...Open. Open. Open. Open. Open .Open...** _

Helpless and aching, all Ellana could hope to do was will her mind to shut off.

But the Breach felt hungry, so very hungry. Like a giant mouth, if she doesn't seal it, it will swallow the world whole.

Starting with her.

She felt limbs of magic curled at her like a long flexible organ, sparks of current coated its length, as it pierced through her and strip her soul bare. It was mentally feeding at the warring feelings and memories she had long sealed in the darkest corner of her mind. The force of it enclosed her in a static state and she could feel it influence her through its torrential command, willing her to use her Mark and submit to its desires.

_**...Open. Open. Open. Open. Open .Open...** _

And she couldn't bear it. The pressure… something wet dribbled out of her nose. Out of her ears. She started to taste blood in her tongue. The chanting continuously harangued her mercilessly.

_**...Open. Open. Open. Open. Open .Open...** _

And, oh, gods, she shouldn't but she did, just a tiny crack.

Then she felt something surge forward to claim her.

She could feel every bit as the Fade invaded her, forcing itself through her, in her. It was confusing and frightening. Demanding. Debasing. Violating.

It pried her mind, her body. Tainted. Dirty. Thousands upon thousands of eyes had seen through her very depths. She felt pain and humiliation mingling like a sickening bouquet. They watched as memories upon memories flooded through her in rapid succession. Each emotions multiplied in intensity that Ellana felt like exploding out of her body. A dry sob wracked her. She can't stop it. She can't control it.

...Something was waiting beyond the Breach...

She was too sensitized to think and Ellana keeled over screaming.

_**EL-LLA-NA** _

Cold fingers crushed her wrist and the familiarity made Ellana stare at the radiant abyss with wide eyes. What she saw made her kneel.

_**Your mind wanders in dark places.** _

_No! No! Get out! Get out of my mind..._

Another wave pulsed and momentarily stunned her. A hot breath cascaded down her cheeks, contrasting to the freezing embrace that prickled the hairs on her skin. There was a quiet laughter deep at the end of the light.

_**Come, Ellana.** _

Ellana opened her tear stained eyes to the swirl of blinding brightness. It was encompassing and brimmed with so much promise...Everything she could ever wanted.

_**Come.** _

Something warm caressed her skin, oh so softly, like a tender lover. It was a reprieve from pain and Ellana wept in relief, leaning to the offered comfort desperately. She felt herself bend under its will. She let go of herself and something else took her over, fitting itself in her skin like she was another piece of clothing. Like a piece of possession.

Then the Mark rebelled.

Its magic ran through her blood and cleared her senses for a second. The light dimmed imperceptibly, but it was enough.

In brief moment of awareness, Ellana found the offered comfort repulsing.

It gave her enough clarity, enough mental control, to pull herself back. Her fingers strained against an invisible force as she willed her hand to clench close. She screamed as her finger broke and twisted, but she persevered. With a final yell she closed in on her left hand with her right, resetting the broken finger, as she forcibly clammed them shut.

The effect was instantaneous.

The Rift closed with a violent **SNAP!** making all her senses implode.

Her mind was white with pain. Her body recoiled and the impact of raw magic blasted her off her feet.

 _This was the end_ , she thought. Her body relaxed.

_It's over._

She did not feel anything as she hit solid ground.


	5. The Threat Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than proving her worth to her clan, now Ellana must prove worth and innocence to the rest of Thedas. 
> 
> The Inquisition will be reborn. And she is the key instrument to return the world as it once was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for my beta-reader Hezjena2023!!!

She was falling.

Yet, no wind blew beneath her limbs. She fell a long, long way. Or was she drifting up?

The darkness throbbed around her. Cotton filled her mouth. Screeching noise pierced her ears, like the scrapping of steel against steel.

The first thing that shifted was the sound.

A slow thump, igniting a steady march in her heart as it gets louder and clearer with each beat.

She could hear gleeful hollers. The procession of banging kettle drums, the clacking sound of a rusted metal cog. _Whirr. Whirr. Whirr._ There was a soft clunk, the hitting of metal pin on wooden pointer, the slowing of the roulette. _Tak… Tak.. Tak._

There was the taste of fried milk in her tongue, the candied animals on a stick – the center crust crumbling between her teeth. Sweetness and sulfur mixed with the smell of boiling oil and damp soil after heavy downpour.

There were men and women with raven hair and bronze skin that smelled like spice and smoke, leading a merry dance by the large fire.

A thunderous clap made her look up. She saw the sky explode into a frenzied kaleidoscope. The lights trailed like raindrops vanishing as they mingled with twilight. There were moans of delight around her.

Darkness that had nothing to do with dusk covered her sight. Walls closed in around her. It had a distinctive scent of sweat. She tried to push but they surrounded her relentlessly, cutting her breath by the seconds. A cry choked on her throat as she was slowly swallowed. Warm hands found their way to her arms and like the dawn parting the night, she was hefted up and up and up. She sucked a lungful of relief.

_So here’s where my little arrow shot off to._

She recognized that playful lilt and soft timbre.

 _Da_ , she had wanted to cry but feelings too strong to name sunk the word deep in her gut.

He placed her on his shoulders. She saw her stubby fingers grasp the golden-white hair that was so much like her own. If she looked up, she knew she was given the full view of the Waking Sea, a pink line marking the horizon. She clamped her arms around his head like a circlet and revelled at the sound of his chuckle as she closed her eyes and burrowed herself in the nest of his hair. Firm arms steadied her legs and she relished at the security it conveyed.

She is safe.

Eyes forward, Ellie.

Standing not far and waving was her Ma. She was clutching her baby brother still inside of her like a precious jewel. The stout Master Biggs was behind her, black-brown eyes and beard a stark contrast to her Ma’s leanness, pale skin and even paler blue eyes. Woven textiles of dyed madder, woad, turmeric and indigo framed them like sun-lit glass. Da led her down and she looked them all over.

Ellana felt so full of giddiness she could burst.

She had wanted nothing more in that moment than to run, to sprint forward and hurl herself in their arms. To tug Da’s calloused hands and join her as she hears the life beneath her Ma’s embrace. She would witness another of Master Biggs’ tricks and smell the familiar oil, resin and alum that defined his laboratory.

Home, she is home.

They looked at her, all crinkled faces and white teeth.

She is happy.

She is loved.

But as soon as her lips parted, the air forced her to gasp. The colors receded and their faces blurred. Fading. She blinked the glassy film away. Wet tears parted in her lashes only to reveal nothing more but shadows in the mist.

A stream of light shone brighter as her memory grows dimmer.

Ellana tried to move but her body was in a state of torpor. Garbled sounds surrounded her. There were cries and moaning, deep and nasal. Conversations float around her that started nowhere and ended just as abruptly.

“ – of water will ensure…she will be well sustained…enough…survive – ”

“ – patient!...do all the work so they can undo…station…guards at all… –”

“ – when she will wake. I…I am unsure if she could ever…. –”

There were movements all around her. Blurred and hurried. She felt adrift. The world continues its pace despite her, slow and heavy. She felt her body succumbed to something soft. Hands were all over her. Then they were not. Then she was warm. Honey and something mint-like sipped through her lips. Images and sensations flashed one over the other, like montages, without commonality or continuity.

Sometimes she was sitting beneath the propped canvas shelter in Ivun’s forge, hearing the hissing steel as he dunked them on the trough. Other times she was at the crowded alleyways, chasing shadows and hiding against the harsh gleam of eyes behind steel helms. Then she was being pursued by red lights in the night, dancing phantoms and howling demons.

And she was back at the bleached sands, alone, while greenish-storm raged at the distance. White froth merged with white sands, reaching out to her toes. Her feet followed the shoreline, the horizon stretched beyond. An intangible line that made the distance go on and on and on.

When she looked up, she was back from the start. A loop. She saw another of herself standing where she stood before, contemplating the things she had contemplated then. She could hear the other’s thoughts just as clearly as she could hear her thoughts now. Overlapping. _White froth. White sands,_ it echoed. Ellana looked back, and another her was coming towards her.

_What would happen if they collide?_

_**What would happen if we collide?** _

She turned from the voice and she was face-to-face with the other Ellana. Her lips stretched and the edges of her ruby red lips started to darken and burn. Her eyeballs began to melt inside her head and her pale skin dissolves like blackened paper.

Her double clasped her through the arm and she felt her left hand burned like it was set on fire. Her skin darkened where they touched and Ellana began to scream and thrash.

Then something awash her, cool and soothing, and she gasped awake. Ellana’s heart still hammered beneath her ribs. Her body was hot and her clothes soiled. Her cheeks were wet, tears or sweat, she didn’t know.

Someone hovered above her, nothing more than a silhouette against the candlelight. She could feel warm breath as the person bend down to her. Soft fingers grazed her forehead, and followed through her neck. It reminded her of the time when Da did the same whenever she had a fever.

She heard a voice amidst her haze. It sounded familiar, male with a melodic cadence. For a moment, she just let herself believe it was still Da and she was still a child. She reached out, hoping to touch his face. She misjudged the distance and her thumbs slightly grazed his lips. They were slightly chapped. He froze mid-sentence. She could feel the ghost of his breath, hurried and shallow, pleasant and real. River of tears flowed as she sobbed.

_How she missed him._

Gently, he wrapped his hands in hers returning them to her side. _No_ , she pleaded helplessly. _Please. Don’t leave me._ His hand stilled between her fingers for a second before tightening. Reassuring. Then he pressed his free hand on her temple and whispered, “Sleep, _da’len_.”

She could feel a light glow beside her, lulling her to slumber. _No. No sleep. No magic. I don’t…want…_ she blinked and everything seemed to slow. Ellana tried to fight it off. Both his hands rested on her left temple, and his thumb began moving in a soothing pattern. Unable to deny it any longer, Ellana felt her lids pressed gently but for a second. And when she opened them once more, she was alone.

A fire crackled in the distance.

The aching marched slowly as consciousness took hold.

Ellana felt like she just survived the aftermath of being trampled by a horde of stampeding brontos. There were parts of her body she never knew could ache. A pained wheeze passed through her dry throat. She was parched. She started to desperately look for a jug of water.

The cabin was intimate and home-y. Windows were closed to ward off the harsher winds that rattled the planks. There were the smells of elfroot, spindleweed and other things she could not name. At the end table to her left, she saw a cup and a carafe. Ellana tried to push herself up but immediately found her muscles had atrophied. She sank at the cushy bed and groaned.

She tried to reach with her left hand, but her fingers only managed to scrape the enamel surface, pushing the cup right off the table. It clanked when it hit the ground, wetting the floor with its contents.

A diffused glow caught her eye. Beneath the soft cotton tunic and over the thick wool blanket, she noticed a bandage wrapped securely on her left hand up to her arm. It stopped her short. Her memory trickled back.

_Conclave. Mark. Breach._

_**THE BREACH!** _

She sprung in panic. The sudden movement caused her to imbalance and she rolled over to the side. She fell from the mattress and on the wet puddle she clumsily created, crushing the cup from her weight. She must have screamed then for someone quickly rushed to her side. Gloved hands hoisted her up and tucked her securely with a blanket. One guardsman had propped her back to bed while another secured the other end of the room.

“Be calm. You are safe.”

From one corner of the room, she caught the sight of red hair. Her mind tried to connect a name to the familiar Orlesian accent.

_Leliana._

The sister motioned for the two guards to leave. They saluted and left. She came closer.

“How do you feel?”

“…Wrecked.” She coughed.

“I’d imagine.” Leliana smiled sympathetically. She sat by her bed.

“…What… ha…ppened…?”

Leliana regarded her for a moment, looking all over Ellana until it settled where her left hand lay hidden under wool. “You lost consciousness after our attempt to close the Breach. You are recuperating in Haven.”

“And…the Breach?”

The firelight cast Leliana’s face in shadows beneath her dark hood, “The Breach has stabilized but it yet remains.”

The Breach remains, her mind echoed. She felt her heart cave with the news. A part of her had hoped…

The image of a green storm came unbidden and for the moment she half expected hands to drag her deep in its bowels. She blinked rapidly. The image lost its hold.

“With Divine Justinia gone…” The sister’s voice hitched as she continued. A pained look marred her lovely face. But it was only a moment. “With Divine Justinia gone, the Chantry is rudderless. We have established an institution to combat this chaos: The Inquisition, reborn.”

Leliana cocked her head at her, assessing. “If the Fade can be believed, the vision at the temple suggests this was all deliberate. There was someone behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone none of us had expected. Perhaps they died with the explosion – or have allies who yet live.”

There was an expectant lull to Leliana’s voice. She was speaking words that had another meaning altogether. Ellana understood it all perfectly. The visit was not a gesture of concern. Ellana turned cold. “You still think I’m a suspect?”

“Cassandra believes you are Maker sent. Providence, she had said. the right person at the right time. Tell me, Ellana.” Leliana leaned back. Her lips stretched in a mockery of a smile, “what should _I_ think?”

Ellana tried hard to focus, carefully constructing her words as much as her throbbing head could. “I…I tried to close the Breach. It almost killed me.”

" _Almost_ is the crucial word," Leliana pointed out. “Why were you at the Conclave?”

“...The Keeper sent me here. To investigate. The war with the Mages and Templars were escalating. She needed to know.”

“The Dalish having an interest in human affairs? A likely story.” The sister paced seemingly calm, belying the alert tension visible in the gleam of her eyes as she eyed Ellana head to toe. “I heard many tales of the Dalish prowess as hunters. It seems not all of them were true.”

Ellana flushed at the insult.

Leliana leaned on the table at the far end, gazing at the Rift in the sky through a narrow window. “You know, I once thought of myself chosen just as some would say you are. But I was wrong. The vision was simply an _illusion_. Justinia was the best of His children and He let her die. And out of that explosion that decimated a mountain only you survived. A heathen marked by His blessing or his curse.” She turned, her eyes drifted to the glimmer of green beneath the blanket, “I have yet to decide which are you.”

Ellana's voice shook. "What more...do you want from me?"

“You have the resources we need, clearly, and my concerns are simple. I only care about results. Our arcane adviser has proclaimed that your Mark needed empowering. Then you will re-attempt to close the Breach. You will help us find who is responsible. And we will end it.”

A flash of terror gripped her. "Y-You don't understand!" she pleaded hoarsely. "...I can't"

"As of the moment, your Mark is the most expedient solution."

Oh, gods. The pain and horror was still vivid in her body, in her mind. The bright light. What did she see behind it? What was it? What was it? There was that voice, that voice that sang wrong.

The thought of it alone made her relieve everything, the charred bodies, the burning in her hand, the smell of roasted meat. Ellana could feel her throat constrict.

 _No. Oh, gods, please…_ She could feel her heart hammer at her ribs, it started to hurt. Phantom pains began to ache. Ellana could feel her eyes grow warm. _No, no, no, no..._ She was starting to panic and her vision started to distort.

 _ **What will it be, Ellana?**_ Leliana pressed.

No, growled. She snapped to her and what she saw made Ellana stutter.

Leliana's face melted before her. Her skin turned to coal and her eyes into greenish embers. Her mouth stretched longer than humanly possible. Tiny little lights that looked like maggots, squirming all over her skin, breaking everything it touched. Beaming. The blindness spread all over like a plague. A terrible sound echoed within her cavities. Deep, guttural and primal. It made Ellana's blood stop pumping.

The not-Leliana laughed cruelly.

_**I see you**._

It leaned closer. Amorphous hands reached out to her, cupping her face in mock concern. Ellana's tears sizzled on her cheeks.

_**Always.** _

Their eyes locked and it was as if she was staring directly at the Breach. Something was at the deep end of the light. Something white. Something terrible. Something she thought she forgot...

There were too many eyes, all looking at her.

They were watching.

Always watching...

 _...No. Gods, no..._ Ellana tried to close her eyes. She willed her lids close but the image burned behind it just as clear as if she had them opened.

Is this a dream? Surely, it must be. She is still asleep. She is still sleeping. _Wake up, wake up, **wake up!** _

The light drowned her as her lungs heaved in effort like it was punctured, pulsing air that hurt like daggers in her back. Disembodied laughter mercilessly mocked her as she gripped for her life. For her sanity. There were many hands all around her - heavy as it pulled her down, down, down. She tried crawling away from it, shielding her eyes with her arms. It grabbed a hold of her wrists and Ellana tried to swat it away.

_No. No, no, no! NOOOOOOOOO -_

Terror gave her strength and she pushed. Energy surged at her left hand and hits something solid.

 **"-OOOOOOOOO!!!** "

Ellana heard a distant grunt but she couldn't see anything. She was temporarily blinded, seeing only the green light in her palm. It shook as a burst of energy was released. Ellana's limb recoiled on impact, her head almost hitting the headboard from the strength of it. Her saliva tastes like liquid iron. She sagged.

When her vision returned, the creature was gone.

She was at the cabin once more.

There was shuffling of feet then suddenly a dagger was at her neck. She looked up to see Leliana, pale and breathing heavily. Her weight was on her, face a hardened mask, studying her. Her cloak and hair were in a state of disarray. Momentarily, she was partially relieved that it was now Leliana, only Leliana.

The Mark's magic hissed like hot coals on Ellana's hand. She realized, too late, that she must have used it against the sister.

"I'm...s-s-sorry. Oh, gods...I'm s-so sorry."

Leliana held her down a moment longer. Ellana swallowed. The heavy pressure ebbed, followed by a 'clink' of the now sheathed dagger, though the sister’s stance remained alert. Loud banging sounds reverberated by the door, followed by a muffled shout behind.

"Sister Nightingale! Is everything alright?"

Without taking her sights off Ellana she answered, "everything's fine. Remain on guard."

"Yes, sister," came the reply.

As Ellana calmed down, the green light faded and they were bathed once more only by warm firelight.

The Nightingale silently assessed her, seemingly content to pace briskly. Her eyes were narrowed and still high on alert. Leliana stopped near the fireplace, taking the time to readjust her cloak. The silence dragged on, enough to wear on Ellana. Her nerves are almost unhinged from the anticipation.

Finally, Leliana spoke. "Is this how it's going to be?"

The Nightingale's voice snapped the tension and Ellana felt her emotions stumbled at one another.

"It's not me that’s doing this!" She waved her Marked hand. "It’s beyond me. I have no control....I-I can't do it...You don't know...What you ask is just - I just..." Ellana bowed in exhaustion. "...can't."

“Then we will all die. You. Me. Your clan. Is that what you want?"

Ellana shook her head helplessly

"But you are going to do nothing." Leliana mocked.

Tears started to prickle her eyes once more as Ellana begins to sob again.

Leliana snarled, "spare me your tears!"

Ellana's pulse jumped, her tears swimming at her lids, afraid to fall.

"I am not impressed by the innocent act you are displaying." The Nightingale leaned in. “I don’t trust you. And I certainly don’t trust that magic in your hand. Unlike Cassandra, my faith lies in the actions of men, not in some happenstance. The only reason you live is because your Mark could possibly be our only hope of closing Rifts and ending the Breach."

Behind her cloak, she produced parchments the size of her palm. She unrolled a couple of them before her eyes. Ellana’s heart leapt from her chest.

“You were spying at the Conclave for Maker knows what reasons. You, a wild Dalish. Then everyone died. While you and your allies, lived."

_Ba'lin…Tae…_

“They didn't do anything!" Ellana squeaked in fear.

The sister merely scoffed. “And I'm supposed to trust your word for it?"

Ellana was shaking her head incoherently, trembling in terror and indecision.

"Do you know how we found them?" Leliana did not even pretend to mask the cruel glint in her eyes. "We caught the two of them, prowling about your cabin. That was, I think, three nights ago? The older one was injured, his veins blackened by demon ichor.”

_What?_

“He would have died had we not treated him.” The sister continued. “The other one wounded three of my agents. They are now rotting in our cells, feeding off our rations. Precious resources that we can’t afford to waste. At this rate –”

“Please!” Ellana cut her off. Leliana paused, waiting. Ellana closed her eyes as she forced her voice to steady, “…Please... I'll do anything you want. Just...please!"

"Anything?"

Ellana nodded pathetically.

But Leliana remain unmoved, an expectant look on her face.

Ellana knew what she wanted. Tears befouled her face, but Ellana strained to make her voice sound even. She dared to look at the Nightingale straight in the eyes.

“…I'll join your Inquisition."

The silence was grating but finally the Nightingale's words rushed the breath out of her. "It's good to recognize when you have no other options, _non_?"

Ellana swallowed.

"As courtesy, no harm will befall your companions and I will personally ensure they will be provided for. So long as you comply to the Inquisition's needs. Make no mistake," Leliana warned. "Cross me in any way, and I won't hesitate to make your every breath a miserable one. My hands are far-reaching, elf. Do _not_ betray me."

Ellana nodded.

"Good. I already sent word for a healer, he will be here shortly. Maker bless you with a speedy recovery.” The sister made to leave but stopped short, “Oh, I almost forgot. Consider this a gesture of good will.” She pulled a sheathed-dagger beneath her surcoat. Ellana’s eyes widen at the familiar hilt.

_Da’s dagger!_

Leliana placed it by the table and without a backward glance left. The door shut with grave finality.

As soon as she was alone, Ellana wept.

A hymn trickles softly in between the planks of wood, soft and hopeful. It must have come from the Chantry. Ellana tucked her head on the side of her bed near the wall. Letting herself be soothed by the music.

_Oh, Ba’lin. Tae. I’ve placed you both in danger._

Her heart bleeds with worry and not long after that, her weeping turned to bawling. Afraid that anyone would hear, she bit onto the thick wool as she bared her heart out in quiet, tearful grieving. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t breathe. And she wondered if people could die by crying? Which is stupid. She’s stupid. Because if she dies, they all die. Ba’lin, Tae, Ivun, Deshanna. The thought made her cry even more. She should have listened to Adahlon. She should have stayed in the clan. She shouldn’t have volunteered for the mission.

_You are family. You need not prove yourself._

She only did it because she can't afford to be useless. To prove herself to the rest of the clan so Deshanna won't be forced to kick her out or have her marry to another clan. She didn’t want to lose her family, again. She was tired of losing people. She was tired of losing her home.

And now the Inquisition would take her away, regardless.

Oh, how she wished she could hear Hahren Isene deride her for her naiveté until she felt buried below the ground, never to resurface again. It will be better than where she is now. She’ll endure anything the clan throws at her if it means they could all go back.

She stopped as soon as the door to the cabin softly opened and clicked close. She could feel her nose run and she struggles even to wipe them. And she’s tasked to save the world against a giant hole in the sky. What a joke.

Snow drifted first before a pair of feet wrapped in everknit came forth. It was the elven mage from before. He must have sensed her distress for he hovered with a respectful distance. “Hello.”

She remained quiet. The man simply took her silence without comment. He began looking around, he must have noticed the mess on the floor as he moved forward to pick up the broken pieces of the cup she fell onto and wiped the floor with a rag. She watched him quietly until Ellana soon realized he must be buying her some time to collect herself. He kept his back to her all the while he cleaned, offering a sliver of privacy.

She was touched by his simple consideration. Ellana wiped her face carefully with her sleeves, doing her best to look mildly presentable. The mage was about done by then, wringing the rag and hanging it by the fireplace. The droplets of water reminded Ellana of her sandy throat and she began to rasp.

The mage, bless him, understood. He picked a fresh cup by the cabinet and poured the water from the carafe and handed it to her. Ellana reached out but her fingers kept failing to grip the rim of the cup. The mage saw her struggle and put the cup back on the table. Ellana whined.

“In a moment,” he said as he pulled her to an almost sitting position and propped the pillows behind her for support. He brought the cup to her lips. Ellana drank greedily and almost choked. He gently pulled them from her lips as she gasped for air. “Ah. Slowly, da’len.”

In a moment, the cup was drained to the last drop and Ellana motioned for another. He obliged. She drank a few more until she felt sated. She licked her lips, desirous of each drop. There was a ghost of a taste on them, honey and some herb she was not familiar with.

She looked up to him. In near proximity, she could see a few dustings of brown skin spots by his cheeks and a small scar near his brow. There is almost an invisible line of crow’s feet at the outer edge of his eyelids. Somehow it surprised her a bit. She had thought him younger before but now she thinks his age could be closer to Adahlon’s. Her eyes met his. They were a deep blue-gray, sharp and focused. Ellana noticed he was also quietly studying her in return.

“Thank you…” she croaked.

“It’s the least I could do. You saved our lives after all, almost at the cost of your own.”

She hummed dispassionately.

“My actions towards you at the temple, they had been…forceful. I am sorry.”

Ellana shook her head. “You did that so we’d survive.”

“That is generous of you. Still, my apology stands." His eyes wandered clinically. "How do you feel?”

Angry. Helpless. Terrified out of my wits. But of course, he meant the Mark. Like she would know anything remotely about magic. Those are for Keepers and their Firsts. So, she defaulted. “...Fine.”

“May I?” he gestured for her Marked hand. Ellana shrugged.

He took her left hand fully, studying the Mark as he turned them side to side. His fingers deftly unwrapped the linen bindings, revealing the soft magical light gleaming from her hand. Green tendrils dances around her hand like tiny sparks. Sometimes it will retreat under her skin, only to glow along her veins and in her bones, exposing the translucency of her skin.

How she hated it.

His hands glowed blue and a cool feeling washed her as he clasped hers between his.

Her body stiffened, repulsed by the magic but was too surprised to react. Had she been asked she would have protested. But it was gone as quickly as it came and all she could do was scowl.

The mage retied her bindings and replaces her hand back to her sides, unaware of her discomfort. “Your Mark is stable for now. I expect it will continue to be so, so long as the Breach is left unperturbed.”

She glared at the now bandaged hand, “you seem to know a great deal about it all."

“My expertise lies mostly to the study of the Fade, with which my travels have supplemented with knowledge beyond that of any Circle mage. Luckily, it proved useful in taming the effects of the Mark, albeit temporarily. Although when you awoke, it had progressed to a stage where it was beyond simple healing spells and wards. For now, you need rest. Your body is still adjusting from the sudden upsurge of magic. In time, it will learn to adapt. By my estimation, your full mobility will return to you in a span of 2-3 days.”

Ellana absorbed the information with nary a response.

“Here, drink this. It will help hasten your recuperation.” He handed her a small, red bottle and helped her down the concoction. There was a faint smell of honey and chamomile, but it had a bitter aftertaste that left her tongue feeling slack. He sat expectantly, perhaps imagining for her to have more questions about the Mark. But something else had nagged at Ellana, a seed of doubt that was planted when she awoke and met with a certain red-headed woman.

“Do you think I did it?”

She need not elaborate. He knew she spoke of the Breach. His continued silence made her itch under her skin, but she bore it. A beat passed before he spoke.

“No.”

She looked at him, surprised at his conviction. “No?”

“No. I do not think you are the cause of the Breach."

She tried to read him, but he was inscrutable. “What do you think happened then?”

“I don’t know.” He said slowly. “You're a part of it. The evidence puts that to certainty but I don’t believe you orchestrated the calamity.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because the magic is not born of you, otherwise you wouldn't be dyi–” his mouth suddenly snapped shut.

“I wouldn't be – _what?_ ”

“You wouldn't be sick.” He finished lamely.

Ellana chuckled bitterly. “I think we both know it’s more than that.”

He remained quiet, but his tight expression said it all.

Ellana’s eyes began to dim. The music’s soft crescendo continued to lap softly outside. It sounded like a requiem.

Funny, the only thing certain in her life now was that death will be coming for her soon. It must have been a month or two since they departed from Wycome but to Ellana, it had felt like years. Now, she will most probably die in a strange land, surrounded by strange people and with a strange magic latched onto her like a parasite.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was heartfelt and its truth broke her heart.

The Breach threatened all and a part of that magic was within her. For better or for worse. She was key to stopping this. Whether she survived the aftermath or not is irrelevant now. Halam’shivanas. At least, there was a chance she can ensure her loved ones are safe if they succeed. She might not be able to control where her life may lead, but she can control how she would react to it. And what purpose she would lay it down for. She believed she can find peace in that.

_Please, let her find peace in that._

Ellana found her hands shaking above her blankets. The mage sat there silently, his head stooped low. Both seemingly lost to their inner thoughts, only her quiet sniveling gave pause to the lingering silence. It was the mage who broke their standstill. His voice was soft, audible only due to their proximity.

“Do you hear that?”

Ellana was caught off guard by the sudden question. She almost dismissed it but his seriousness made her reconsider. She made an effort to take note of the sounds around her: the rattling planks, the slapping leaves above her roof and the continuous singing since a while ago. She wiped her eyes once more. Her cheeks were starting to burn from the constant friction.

“The people of Haven are holding a prayer service for your swift recovery. They have been doing so these past eight days.”

Ellana snapped to him in surprise. She’d been unconscious for more than a week! The man simply continued, seemingly ignorant of her discomfort.

“To them, you are the Chosen of Andraste, blessed hero sent to save us all.”

Ellana’s expression folded. “Hero? I’m not a hero.”

“Does it matter?” he challenged back, though there was no fire in it. “The Conclave was their beacon of hope and for it to fail. It is as if the ship had sunk right beneath their feet and in their desperation they have clung to whatever flotsam to survive. By stabilizing the Breach, whether you believe it or not, you are to these people, a hero. The new symbol of their hope."

Providence, according to Cassandra. Ellana was growing more agitated by the second. If he was trying to calm her down, it was obviously not working.

“I don’t…Why are you telling me this?”

“The Mark is unlike any magic I have ever seen, and believe you me, I have seen aplenty. You are not a mage. Even so, no mage alive would have been able to wield it and lived. In every scenario, it should have been impossible. And yet here you are -”

His eyes flashed and Ellana felt she could melt at the intensity. As if looking at her like that he could divine the mystery of her survival. “- By all definitions, _you are a miracle_."

The impassioned speech left Ellana gaping after him in astonishment. She wasn’t sure who his words were trying to convince, her or himself.

All the fear, all the tension and worrying, the threats of death and future pains, and this strange man with his strange and terrifying words hoping, and failing, to comfort her. Finally, Ellana snapped and she laughed.

The mage looked taken aback. She could barely control her breath as she went for another round of hysterical laughter. _Miracle. Faith. Hope._ She would have slapped her thighs had she the energy to do so. Then, something sharp blocked her throat and her laughter became a choke. Another bout of tears strolled down to her cheeks.

_Chosen of Andraste._

Ellana didn’t want any of that.

She just wanted to go home.

Her thoughts drifted to Tarel and Adahlon with their mysterious fates and fresh tears sprung once more. Gods! She was so sick of crying. But she can’t stop, if she did her heart would break irreparably.

Thankfully, the mage said no more. Instead he watched the fires as she returned to her habit of sobbing in near darkness, strangled by her insurmountable fate. How could her life have changed so drastically in no more than a sennight? What had she done to make the gods punish her so? What kind of god would be so cruel as to deal her with such a fate?

She forced her breathing to subside, wiping her red eyes once more. What does it matter, anyway? She doesn't believe in any of them. Their prayers, their singing, it means nothing to her. The Maker, the Creators. No matter their names, gods are nothing more than silent witnesses inside their smoked sanctums.

_It's hard to keep faith in gods who abandoned you._

“You should rest now,” the mage finally said.

Ellana looked at him with dark humor. There is no rest. Another horror awaits her on the other side of the Veil.

He helped her adjust back to a sleeping position and laid her with layers of blankets and wool, but the cold hands of fate permeated deep in her bones and no fire could extinguish them. She turned her head to the wall.

Ellana could feel the mage scrutinize her. He let out a heavy sigh. Ellana could hear the shuffle of cloth as he placed his finger near her temple. The feeling of magic raised her hackles as the slight pin prick of the Mark warned her. It made her stomach knot in a sickening way.

She snapped her head to him. “What are you doing?”

“Aiding you to sleep.”

“No. _No magic_."

Ellana’s eyes narrowed while his widened. Then his face tightened and he looked ready to argue but Ellana held his gaze, defiant. It was he who looked away first.

“Very well,” he said crisply. “I shan’t bother you any further.”

The wool covering her Marked hand emitted a soft green light, looking very much like storm clouds. He glanced at it and turned away. Ellana could swear he looked hurt. The mage looked small and melancholic as he made his way to the door.

She felt a brief pang of guilt. The man did not choose to be a mage just as she did not choose the lot she got in her life. He did not deserve her anger and suspicion, in fact, he and his magic had been helpful thus far.

_It’s not like it's his magic that's killing me._

With a huff she called out, “wait, mage.”

He stopped.

“…I – ” What should she say? I’m sorry? No, that’s not it. She cleared her throat. “I'm just… What I mean is I’m not…ungrateful. For your help. For trying.”

He turned. Somehow, he looked sadder.

“ _Atisha eral, da’len_.”

The door closed, leaving Ellana in the company of her own thoughts. She stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling. Gods. It will take awhile before sleep becomes a willing companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Atisha eral - peaceful dreaming
> 
> Special Thanks to Fenxshiral.


	6. The Herald of Andraste I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana, titled as the Herald of Andraste, reluctantly becomes an official member of the Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Sorry for old readers! This is NOT a NEW CHAPTER.  
> I edited the scenes from previous chapters to make it less wordy (less pressure for upkeep!). I hope with this new system, I'll be inclined to send out new chapters. Hope you understand. Cheers!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> TO THE LOVELY BETA-REDEAR HEZJENA2023! MA SERANNAS, LETHALLAN!!

Tonight she dreamt of snow.

For as long as she could remember, Ellana always had such nightly affairs. Often it was the memory of lost childhood that visited her. Complete and fulfilled in her tireless reimagining. She used to look forward to this solace of her mind. It nestled her in times when reality was too bleak to bear for a lonesome young girl that yearned for the ghosts of an old life that only remained vivid under closed lids.

But tonight, like any other nights since the Breach, old yearnings transformed into nightly terrors. Like a theater play, the scenery varies though the plot remains the same. Sometimes it was under the thick canopy of forests, or in the middle of the plains, more often than not there is a shore.

But the snow was new.

Her feet scrunched against the milky white that blanketed the entire forest floor. But no cold seeped through her bare soles. Dead trees extended their rickety limbs towards the darkness. The only light emitted was the green glow of the Breach beyond blackened skies. The only thing that remained constant. Her own Black City. She was alone. And yet the prickle in her skin tells her otherwise.

She heard something howl behind her. It was close enough that she felt the rush of breath as it ruffled the hair at the base of her neck. She whirled quickly only to meet the impenetrable silence of the night. The abyss was watching her. It followed her every action, counting every beat that hammered beneath her chest. It waited at the fringes of her mind, lingering at the borders of her consciousness.

Like a curtain call, clouds moved in the sky. Ellana waited with bated breath as her only source of light vanished before her.

Darkness descended and Ellana despaired.

Her hands shook. In the stillness her heaving breath sounded like scratched nails on metal. She knows what will happen next. But the anticipation only worsened the fear that drummed its way out of her ribs feeding the panic that seem to clot her blood stream.

Insidious cold wrapped around her ankles, like slime, going higher and higher at an alarming rate. She pushed it off, but it fled in between her fingers without resistance. It felt like gossamer but thicker, denser. Heavier. The cold ran up to her neck, then her chin, her nose… She gasped. Salt assaulted her lungs. She screamed. The sound muffled by the liquid that is now coating her throat, bubbling out of her lips as she extinguished the last air inside her body.

The Mark burst from her hand.

Something soft brushed under her fingertips, exuding calmness. Her fingers gripped it tightly as the feeling of relief wrapped itself around her. She tightened her hold, as she coiled her body around the comforting presence. The creature flew her out of the black sea, carrying her on its back. The moment they broke water, she gasped, breathing a lungful hungrily until she felt the air burn inside her. The presence trotted a step or two before Ellana rolled off gently. She stilled, making sure she was breathing again.

She looked up to the spirit-creature.

It looked blindingly bright against the deep shadows. Its grey-blue eyes were shining intelligently against its pristine ethereal form, glowing like white fire in the evening sky. For a moment she feared it would disappear and leave her stumbling in the dark. As if sensing her thoughts the large creature sat on its haunches, easing her. If she could see beyond its brightness, she could imagine it lolling its tongue out like a domesticated hound.

Beyond the two of them, the stillness was disquieting.

An electric current ran to her body like tiny spiders hovering along the hairs of her skin. Ellana could sense the rush of many steps tittering behind her. She moved closer and pressed a hand near the spirit-creature, curling her fingers tightly on its light-fur. She strained her eyes around her. Again, there was nothing there, not a sight nor sound. The spirit’s ear twitched and Ellana knew that it knows, feels, as well.

They were after her.

Who they are, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. No, that’s not true. A tiny curious part of her wanted to know. She feels the need to know, a grating whisper in the back of her mind. But she knew something terrible is going to happen when they catch up to her.

The darkness seem to constrict, the air around them tightened, becoming denser and colder.

They were closer now, she could sense it.

Her Marked hand flickered and she flinched.

The spirit rounded in front of her in a gesture that she read as concern. It ducked its large head in her hand like it wanted to be petted. Ellana embraces it. She doesn’t speak and it doesn’t ask. Instead it laid on the ground, patiently waiting like it does every night since these nightmares began. Her rescue and refuge. Ellana climbed up then stared at the abyss.

Whatever was beyond there she was not ready to know. Not yet.

Once she was settled, the creature of light galloped with unbelievable speed. She hugged its neck to steady herself. The spirit was surprisingly warm and solid to the touch. Ellana buried her nose at the soft tussle of fur, combing the ghostly tuft and relishing the comfort it gives. The spirit wound higher and higher until the black curtain fell and she stared straight into the open light.

One blink and she found herself in her cabin back in Haven.

She groaned as she pushed herself up. Remnants of her meal last night were still at the table. She must have woken really early if the elven help had yet to collect the dishes as she always does in the morning. She washed her face from the nearby basin and put on a thicker cloak, securing the wrap on her middle. Fatigue suffused her bones and she yawned. She had been having fitful sleep for days now.

Within those irregular bouts of rest she finally met with the resident physician named Adan only once. It was a brief meeting. He inspected her, made her chug another vial full of something awful, wrote on his parchment and left. Ellana had waited patiently for the man to come back. Even fighting the sleep from the concoctions they poured down her throat in order to ask him how Adhalon was. Surely, he would know. But no such luck. Their last meeting was also their first and she was barely cohesive then. Besides, the man was obviously haggard and irritable. Perhaps he was the sole physician around, or rather, the sole non-magical physician around.

Ellana grimaced. She was too impulsive in denying that mage and his spell. She must have offended him somehow since Ellana hadn't seen him again. She regretted pushing him away, magic still made her feel icky, but at least he talked to her.

The isolation was driving her mad.

The elven help who followed up Adan’s prescription was not as amicable. Ellana also attempted to converse with her but nothing came out of the effort. The help, a young woman, could barely make eye contact as she trembled. No amount of assurances could make her speak up and she left as soon as her tasks are done. Ellana doesn’t even know her name.

Ellana began walking absently around the room, enjoying every popping bone and tired muscle if only to remind her that she could move again. She plucked Da’s dagger by the table, glad to have her most prized possession back. She unsheathed the blade and watched the firelight play at the metallic surface, casting irregular lights by the wall. Unlike any other dagger, it was always tepid, giving comforting warmth to her otherwise gloveless hands.

Her fingers ghosted on the pile of notes that seem to grow in ever disarray each morning. She recognized Adan’s. His written observations were all succinct and dispassionate. There is another parchment beneath it, a mixture of Common and Elven. _Must have been the mage's._ The latter was mostly used as annotations, not that she can read them. She studied the Elven markings and noted that it looked slightly different than Deshanna's. She tried reading the ones he had written in Common instead, but gave up. They looked like chicken scratch at best.

So he did come around, at least not while she was awake anyway.

The Mark remained hidden beneath layers of bandage. Like this, she could pretend it's not real. Just another injury. No big deal.

Ellana startled at the knock on the door. A guardsman entered, wearing a brown gambeson and padded fur cloak pinned by silver brooch. It had the symbol of an eye and a sword, the Inquisition’s.

He was a comely young man in his late twenties. He had a boyish look despite the sprout of untrimmed beard on his sides and chin. The morning light haloed behind him revealing a tinged of fiery red in his otherwise mundane curly brown hair that fell wildly down his ears. She's seen him several times before, escorting the servants and Adan.

Her jailor, a dark thought whispered. The living proof that she can’t simply go in and out of her cabin by her will.

Green eyes quickly gathered at her then at the dagger she hugged close to her chest and back at her eyes again. His face was indecipherable. Was he gauging her as a threat? The thought doused when he shrugged and moved forward, carrying a tray of food in and placed them at the table. In the close proximity, he was at least a foot and a half taller than her. They have never exchanged words until now.

Her first real exchange in days.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady. The council wishes to speak with you, after you break your fast.” His enunciation was clear and confident, the tone of one who was well educated. Perhaps a nobleman or at least a merchant’s son.

She tightened her cloak, remembering she was only wearing a simple nightdress underneath, “council?”

“Yes, my lady. Commander Rutherford returned from the Hinterlands the night prior. He is currently reporting at the War Room,” his brows furrowed. “Have you not been informed?”

_I’m a prisoner. No one ever tells me anything._

“…No. I haven’t heard.”

The guard simply nodded, “I will escort you to the Chantry then, my lady. I shall await you outside whenever you are ready.” He gave a short bow and left. The door clicked shut.

She sheathed her dagger and proceeded to change her linen nightshirt to a thicker set of layered cotton tunic and breeches. She grabbed the boots and cloak they had left for her. Ellana eyed the parcel they prepared. She decided to grab the bread and ate it in several bites, downing it with the bitter warm tea. Best to get whatever it is over with. Before she left through the door, she eyed the sheathed dagger by the table and wondered should she need to bring it. What would I do, slash my way out? Right, even if Adahlon or Tarel were not under the Inquisition's hands she doubted she could make it far. Besides, if she was the only one so far who can close the Breach, she doubted they would do anything to harm her. _At least not physically_ , her traitorous mind supplied. They didn’t seem to have the trouble caging her in like some undesirable rodent.

She turned back to the door and proceeded outside. Gone were the banners of the Mages’ and Templars’ that have participated in the Conclave. Even the Crown’s men had dispersed and so did the mercenary bands that flocked near the lake before. Without the busybodies, Haven now appeared relatively plain and desolate.

The guardsman from earlier nodded to her and with a gesture of his hand, they moved towards the Chantry. Ellana glanced around and found most of the town's denizens looked like they were under some fugue, moving like mechanical gears as they did their tasks seemingly out of memory rather than conscious effort. The shock of the Breach has yet to wear off.

When a few had seen her, they stopped. And stared. Ellana felt herself stiffen as the crowd of onlookers grew larger. There were soft murmurs and awed expressions. She felt the guard move himself forward, his arm extending as if shielding her. Several uniformed men were quickly alerted, moving in practiced pace as they put themselves between her and the crowd. There were excited murmurings.

“That’s her.”

“That’s the Herald of Andraste.”

“She sealed the Breach!”

As the people started to get close, more guardsmen came. Some of the faces in the crowd she recognized. She had worked with some of them before she got swallowed and spat out of the Fade. She wondered if any of them recognized her.

She doubted it. Everything prior to the Conclave felt like a lifetime ago.

Ellana looked with horror as some of the women started weeping. There were others kneeling and tapping their foreheads and extending their hands out in supplication. If she didn’t have the presence of mind, her jaws would have dropped.

Then a boy, no more than eight, stepped outside the lined crowd. He looked lost and alone. The guardsman beside her moved closer, back straight and intimidating. Ellana shot her arm out in reflex, halting him with a light touch to his arm.

His focus jarred, “my lady?” She ignored him and walked forward. Pity moved her.

The crowd hushed. The boy looked like a rabbit caught in a trap but to his credit, he did not step back. Ellana stoop low until they were at eye-level. She tried to give a small smile, to ease him, but he remained fixed. In a moment of inspiration, Ellana raised her Marked hand. She remembers how 'magic tricks' delighted her when she was younger, though they weren't real Fade-magic, just quick hands and mind. Once, she even fancied being a mage, if only she could watch fire burn and doused on her hands at her accord.

Of course, at that time, she had not experienced the full implication of having real magical ability. She didn't yet know how painful such experience can be.

Despite the bandage, the Mark emitted a soft glow, tiny wisp of magic dancing playfully at her palm. Ellana heard the crowd gasped but her attention was to the boy in front of her. He eyed her hand, his mouth forming an ‘O’, fear and curiosity mingled in his expression. It made Ellana smile. The Mark has some banal use after all.

“It won’t hurt you. See?” She wiggled her hand and let the magic dance around her fingers.

His eyes snapped to hers, then his face twisted into a look of furious disgust. Ellana recoiled in shock. She wasn’t expecting such abrasive reaction. The boy stepped back, his breath heaving, then he bolted and run. She watched frozen at his retreating form.

Ellana didn’t want to admit it but the rejection stung. How foolish of her. To others, she and the Mark were still suspect. Was showing the magic pushing it too far?

She balled her fists and eyed the masses, expecting to see the same hurt and anger in their eyes, the same judgment, the same suspicion reflected back to her. But the they were struck silent. Whether from her presence or the boy’s antics, Ellana doesn’t know. Didn’t care to know at this point. What did it matter to her what they think anyway?

Still, she couldn't help feeling dirty.

The Mark pulsated beneath her skin. Warm and fuzzy. That was new. If she didn't know better, she would have said that it was trying to comfort her. But magic doesn't have a mind of their own, does it? Well, even if it did, it wasn’t doing it for her sake, that was for sure. It was more like an ignored cat validating itself. She scowled.

_Magic is odious._

A light squeeze jarred her thoughts. “My lady,” the guardsman said placidly. Ellana stood up and followed him to the Chantry, not once looking back at the reverent silence that befell the assembly behind her.

The inside of the Chantry was morose. Candles atop iron stands littered the corners, but the small light barely illuminated the large expanse of stone wall. The cold seeped through her thin boots. The place was just as empty of pews or lecterns as the moment Cassandra dragged her out the lower dungeons to see the Breach for the very first time. Biden by the memory, her eyes lingered to the inconspicuous doorway by the side. She wondered if Tae and Adhalon were down there, too. A knife twisted at her heart. At the end of the aisle, two knights in Templar armor stood guard outside the door. She could hear the heavy discussion as she they neared the council room, muffled but otherwise clear, “…that much magic poured into the Mark could destroy us all!”

Ellana eyed her escort and he gave her a reassuring grin that came off as an awkward grimace. She looked down. Ellana was used to being the bearer of misfortune. Still the constant reminders never failed to make her feel small.

The guardsman proceeded to knock and everything quieted down. There were muffled exchanges before a clear female voice ordered: “Enter.”

The door opened and all eyes turned to her. The tension in the room seems to pause like a stretched rubber, thin and taut, waiting to snap.

Ellana saw Sister Leliana first, crossed arms and wearing a heavy frown. Ellana recognized the Commander on the opposite end of the table and a woman on his left. She had dark hair and skin emphasized by ostentatious jewels and golden puffed sleeves layered by a belted surcoat with pleated skirt made of purple brocades. It was she, who spoke to Ellana first in her silky Antivan accent. “Mistress Lavellan! It’s a pleasure to have you join us. Andaran atish’an.”

 _Enter this place in peace, she says._ Ellana almost wept at the irony of it all.

“Leave us.” The sister orders and the guardsman saluted, closing the door behind him.

“I’m glad Leliana persuaded you to stay,” the Antivan woman addressed her once again. She gave her the sweetest most genuine smile that made Ellana think she had no idea of the method Leliana used to ‘persuade’ her.

“Of course, Josie. She knows well what’s at stake.” Leliana replied tunefully, a melody as sharp as a hidden dagger to the back.

The woman, Josie, turned to Ellana, still beaming. “I am Josephine Montilyet, ambassador and diplomat for the Inquisition.” She pointed the quill at the other end of the long table, as she began to introduce the powers that be. “You met Sister Leliana, of course. She is our… principal informant and seneschal. She, along with Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, worked closely with our late Divine, forming her Left and Right Hand respectively. Unfortunately, Lady Pentaghast won’t be with us for the time being.” Pointing a quill to her immediate right, “And this is Commander Cullen Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition’s forces. I believe you’ve met briefly at the Temple.”

The man nodded at her, “I’m glad to see you are well. So will Seeker Pentaghast, I’d imagine.”

Ellana studied the man. She’d seen him at the Temple, she recalled. The blond man looked rugged and leonine in his hulking mass of armor then and more human now in simple leather and black gambeson not so dissimilar with the guardsman she met earlier. Despite his strong build and handsome face, he looked pallid, almost sickly.

Ellana acknowledge them with a dip of her head, clearly overwhelmed by the human council.

“I mentioned before that your Mark will need more power so we may be able to close the Breach for good.” Leliana began without preamble as she leaned on the table. Her eyes wander at the rest of the occupants, falling heavily on the Commander. “That is why it is imperative we contact the remaining Mages in Redcliffe for help.”

The amiable truce shattered with a slam on the table. “Absolutely not! You’ve not been at the field, Leliana,” Cullen interjected hotly. “The rebel Mages are out of control.”

“Just as much as the rogue Templars as the news from my ravens informed me.”

“Acquiring magic equivalent to that of the Breach may destroy us all. This plan of yours is too risky! The Templars can help us disrupt the Rift enough that the Herald –” Ellana inwardly flinched, hearing the word uttered with so much fervor...

“Pure speculation.”

Cullen growled. “I was a Templar, Leliana. I know full well what they are capable of.”

Josephine interrupted the two, “Be that as it may, we can contact neither groups. The Chantry denounced the Inquisition, and you, specifically.”

Ellana squirmed as she flashed a brief look at Leliana. She was not looking at her directly but she could feel the sister eyed her in her periphery. Her eyes lowered, “…They still think I’m guilty…”

“That’s not the entirety of it, I’m afraid. Some are calling you ‘Herald of Andraste’. That frightens the Chantry. Clerics have deemed it blasphemy and us heretics for harboring you.” Josephine explained.

They are not the only one frightened of that.

“Chancellor Roderick still has some ties within the Chantry. This is his doing no doubt,” Cullen snarled, the scar on his lips twisted, not even bothering to hide his dislike of the man. From what Ellana could recall in their brief exchange in the mountains, she agrees with his assessment.

Ellana mumbled worriedly, “but I don’t understand…” How can they think I’m the Herald of Andraste?

Josephine had heard what she left unsaid. She had the gentlest of smiles as she looked upon her over her writing implements, “the people saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the Rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste. Even if we have stopped this rumor from spreading, the people of Haven have decided to believe what they saw. It is beyond us at this point.”

“They don’t care that I’m Dalish?”

“People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign and to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” Ellana felt her blood drain from her face. Josephine must have noticed for her voice dropped a decibel, “I suppose we’re desperate enough to overlook things that we couldn’t before. I think what’s sad is that it takes a catastrophe to change that.”

“The Breach concerns them all for sure. The Chantry simply doesn’t believe we can do anything about it,” Cullen added.

“…Surely the mages would have done something with the Rifts by now?” Ellana hated how desperate and pathetic she sounded. A part of her desperately hopes that Breach and its Rifts are not problems that solely lies on her shoulders. Oh, please, please. Let the mages figure it out!

She heard Cullen scoff, but it was Leliana who replied, “they have,” Ellana did her best not to look at her directly. “But none have reported anything remotely successful. There was one mage I know of who was successful at mending the tears, but the ritual involved was... complex.* As far as we are concerned, that Mark on your hand is the only true magic that can affect the Rifts and the Breach itself.”

Ellana raised her head, imploring the Inquisition leaders, “but won’t it be a problem if I stay? I mean they still have Templars, don’t they? What if they march here? Or…or -”

Cullen broke her from her panicked thoughts. “Herald. If you’re the only one who can close the Breach, I’d rather you’d be here where we can defend and protect you with whatever they try to throw at us.”

And if the threat comes from your ranks? Ellana's attention darts unconsciously to the stoic Leliana.

“Well, we rather it won’t come to that, Commander.” Josephine nervously chuckled.

“Be that as it may, we have already made the first move,” Leliana said, placing her hands behind her back. “Commander Cullen and Seeker Cassandra have made contact with Mother Giselle at the Hinterlands. If the Chantry is as good as I remember they must have already caught wind of that. They will not like it and will surely retaliate soon.”

“With what exactly? By nagging us to death?” Cullen scoffed and waved his hands dismissively.

“With rumors and reputation, Commander. They are as deadly a force as any steel,” Josephine answered back with more bite. “Don’t forget that the rest of Thedas still hold much respect for the Chantry. Their words are not to be trifled with.”

Cullen frowned, “I hardly think –”

“We’ll deal with this one at a time,” Leliana interjected strongly. Cullen and Josephine quieted at her intervention. “Perhaps filling in the Herald would be a good start, no?”

Cullen sighed. He placed a carved piece with the Inquisition symbol over Redcliffe on the table map. “Indeed, we have secured an outpost at the Crossroad. Unfortunately we cannot go forward. A Rift had been sighted within the nearby parameters.” Drawing a ‘C’ along the vicinity of Lake Calenhad, “Fortunately, we managed to gain contact with Mother Giselle and a horsemaster named Dennett. We’ve secured the nearby farmlands and managed to prop up encampments all throughout the area. However, this is not enough to stabilize the region. The rebel mages and rogue Templars are still rampant and the Rifts still poses as the major threat. Cassandra will return for a few days, escorting Mother Giselle back here as well as several horses we managed to obtain.” Cullen straightens up and addresses Ellana directly, “with it, we were hoping to send you there, along with a small team, to secure the Rift and extend the Inquisition’s influence throughout the Arling.”

She cast a quick glance at the spymaster. She was not surprised to see Leliana was eyeing her back. This is, after all, Ellana’s end of the bargain. She turned her attention to the Commander, “how long till we leave?”

“Cassandra will be here a sennight from now. Due to your smaller numbers, your team may reach the Crossroad less than a week, depending on the troubles you will meet up ahead.”

There’s time. She may be able to see Tarel and Adahlon before then.

If only she could voice it out.

Cullen continued, “and Lady Montilyet, we already manage to double our number of recruits. Most of them are accompanying Cassandra as we speak, I’ll be sending you a list of the logistics this afternoon.”

“I am unsure how you expect me to manage to feed such large number of combatants. Wintermarch is looming and our stocks won’t simply accommodate.” Josephine scribbled hastily at her parchment, a worried frown in her visage.

“We are hoping to secure the Hinterlands by then. The Arling of Redcliffe provides one third of the Crown’s staple. Arl Teagan will provide us generously once we banish the demons off his lands and brought him some semblance of peace. These numbers will see it happen.”

“I am well aware, Commander. My concern is that, at this rate, all we have will be hungry ones,” the Ambassador exasperatedly pointed out.

Cullen pinched his nose in frustration. “There’s game to be found around the Frostbacks, right? We can send more hunters out. And water down the ale and conserve the meat by offering them only to soldiers or those working in hard labor. Bread and fish for the rest.”

Josephine sighed, scribbling them down, “I can work with that. I can also broker a deal with the Arl once we established some level of…amiability, by then it could also positively influence a contract I’m drafting with the rest of the Bannorn. That could cover our lapse of resource once spring comes.”

“Do what you will, Ambassador. So long as we don’t starve, you won’t find any issue from me.” Cullen eyed the rest of them, “that’s it for me, is there anything else that needs attention?”

“I’m settled,” Josephine seconded.

Ellana's heart sped. This was her chance. She just wanted to be assured of Tarel and Adahlon’s condition. There is nothing wrong with that, surely. As Cullen and Josephine’s eyes shifted to Ellana, she drew a quiet breath as she mustered her courage. She was still unsure how’d they perceive her inquiry, could they help or hinder her? In her heartbeat of hesitation, Leliana's voice interrupted her.

“I have what I need.”

The three nodded. Josephine gave the dismissal, “very well. Council is adjourned.”

The rest of them shuffled their way out the door. She saw Leliana addressing Cullen as they left.

Ellana let go of her breath, disappointment weighing her body down. She bit her cheeks to stop herself from screaming. Lost in her inner turmoil, she did not feel a presence at her side until a light touch fluttered by her shoulder. Ellana flinched. Josephine’s friendly face looked at her worriedly.

“Herald, are you all right?”

Ellana nodded, startled and unable to speak.

“I see…” Josephine said unconvincingly. “Well, what I was saying was, Lady Pentaghast commissioned Master Harritt to have a new arms and armor made for you. Perhaps you would like to have them tested?”

“Oh,” Ellana managed to choke out. “Okay.”

Josephine smiled and called, “Ser Adrian.” The guard from before appeared by the door way. “Kindly escort the Herald to the smithy, please.”

“As you say, Ambassador.”

With a comforting squeeze to her arm, Josephine led them out of the War room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Leliana refers to the Warden Avernus, a blood mage, when he sealed a tear in the Veil at Soldier's peak back when she traveled with Hof.


	7. The Herald of Andraste II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding friends and allies in unlikely places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again Hezjena2023 dearest for the beta-read XD

It was now midday and the thick of clouds shrouded the sun from sight. Despite the diffused light, the snow glowed to an almost pristine white as Ellana and Ser Adrian walked down the knoll.

People still gawked and turn whenever they passed by, but Ellana was glad that whatever display happened in the morning did not make an encore. Perhaps, the novelty has waned off. All the better. Though her more anxious mind dreaded the looming future as she traverses the rest of Thedas as an emissary of Chantry faith.

An elven emissary at that.

The travesty.

The Emerald Knights are probably rolling in their graves.

There was a reason why her people were cast out of the Dales. There was a reason why elves were never represented in the Chantry hierarchy. There was a reason why Shartan’s songs were never sung. It was the very same reason why the elven people are now displaced, forced to be content to scour the edges of human civilization or submit their sovereignty and live in poverty as second class citizens.

The Exalted March of the Dales.

Now an elf becomes the Herald of Andraste. The faith of the Chantry represented by the very heathen they wished to dispose and shoved under a rug.

Ellana’s head started to ache.

The narrative does reek of desperation. Otherwise, only someone with a convoluted mind would think up something as preposterous.

Will her clan ever forgive her for allowing this?

Will they understand that joining the Inquisition was the only way to survive? Hers and the hunters with her?

Or will it only cement their belief of her unworthiness? Forever tainted by her close proximity with humans?

As they neared the Singing Maiden, she saw a familiar stout man with blond hair jogging towards them. He waved at them.

“Hey, Glowy!”

A name floated out of her memory. “Varric.”

The dwarf walked steadily at her side once he caught up, glancing briefly at her armed escort before flashing her a wide smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m heading to Harritt’s. They want me fitted with new armor.”

“Ah. Traipsing in the Hinterlands with the Seeker, eh? Great, heading there myself.”

“You mean the smithy or Redcliffe?”

“Both,” Varric laughed, “oh, I know, I know. Imagine my surprise. The Seeker just can’t resist my charms,” patting his hairy chest that was barely covered by his gapping tunic. Serves him well, she thought. Perhaps, the furry chest helps stop him from freezing solid.

Ellana smiled. "A lot seemed to have happened while I was asleep."

"That it did. Glad to see you up and well," he grinned. "Chuckles did I fine job at that. He'd been taking care of you since the start."

Chuckles did? She knew he had something to do with the Mark. She didn't know that included taking care of her. _Well, it’s obvious why in hindsight._ And last they spoke, she was a little rude to him...

Ellana was startled when Varric hooked her arm to his like one would when escorting a noble lady. He led her down towards the gate of the inner wall. Ellana could hear Ser Adrian shuffling behind them. For a short man, Varric walked in gigantic strides.

“Harritt’s just outside the walls,” he explained as they passed by Seggrit’s stall and out the town gate. They walked towards a nearby stable and rounded. A tall bald man with a finely trimmed red mustache walks out. Smoke and fire reddened his nose and eyes while his entire contour is painted with soot. He was oiling the hinges of his tongs when Varric called out, “well, if it isn’t the finest smith topside of the Frostback.”

The man twitched his lips then he snorted, “I’m the only smith topside of the Frostback.” There is a deep, rheumatic influx to his voice. As the blacksmith spoke, his face drifted to Ellana then rested again to Varric. “What d’you want, dwarf?”

“The lovely lady would like to have a look at that commissioned piece you got your nose buried in.”

Understanding came to Harritt’s features as he came closer and bowed. Not exactly the sweeping kind, but a short curt one. But the severity of his posture showed the sincerity of his actions. “Aye, Seeker Pentaghast has asked me, m’lady Herald. It only needs to undergo final fittin’. I hope you find it to your liking.”

“I –” Ellana mumbled. “…Thanks.”

“We all doin’ what we can.”

He gave a phlegmy gurgle before spitting it out. The entire workplace was filled with smog. It was not doing the smith’s health any good. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before calling back to one of his apprentices, bent at the forge. “Oy, Pickett. Get the piece the Seeker ordered, boy.”

Young Pickett looked owlishly before scampering off as he did what was bid. The lanky boy quickly returned with a well-bundled package.

“Well, just have a go at it and tell me if you’ve got problems. You can dress over there.” Harritt pointed towards a nearby cabin.

“Glowy, when you’re done, come find me at my place. I’ve got something cool to show you.” Varric pointed at the house just across the smithy then left.

Pickett handed the pieces to her, wrapped in cloth. As she neared the door, Ser Adrian posted himself to one of its side as she entered.

The cabin was a small sleeping space for the smith and his apprentices. The place was just as big as her place, shared by five people all sleeping in a small cot with a doused hearth on the same side where their workshop is attached as an extension. Ellana locked the door and took the armor out carefully and fitted them.

The chest piece was a simple leather brigandine made of thick sueve straps woven together and metal rivets to fasten them at every crossing. It was long enough to reach mid-thigh and secured by a thick belt from where she could attach her sidearms. There were a pair of light gloves, bracers, greaves and a gorget, all made of the same material as the rest. All of them secured to a nice thick coat and leggings made of the softest cashmere beneath them. To top it all off was the most comfortable pair of leather boots with the same soft cashmere lining inside her feet.

Everything felt light and sturdy. Ellana was delighted.

She careful stripped them all and repacked them, wearing only the boots from the set. She left the cabin and thanked Harritt. The old smith merely eyed the footwear she still wore.

“I really like them,” Ellana said sheepishly.

Harritt gave off a rumble, obviously flattered. There was a tint of red in his cheeks that wasn’t there before. “Best time than any to break it in, ‘spose.”

He took the packed armor from her for safekeeping as Ellana went looking for Varric. His place was a short distance from Harritt’s. Ser Adrian was soon following behind her.

His doors were open, Ellana knocked at the panel for good measure and entered.

There was a table filled with tidied up hemp fibers, terracotta and glass pots beside a used mortar and pestle made of carved hardwood. There were a bunch of closed clay jars with labels: sulfur, tartar, saltpeter, and oil. A cauldron boiled at the side while a ladle lay beside it coated with some kind of sticky-gum resin. She inhaled deeply and smiled.

The room reminded her of Master Biggs. Her hands drifted to familiar pinkish-red flower, pressed, near a jar of resin.

Ellana spotted the blond head entering the enclosure. Varric was carrying a bucket full of sawdust.

“You’re making an incendiary,” Ellana said without preamble.

Varric looked more amused than surprised, “what tipped me off?”

Ellana was grinning as she twirled the small flower in her fingers and tapped the resin near where she plucked it from.

“This flower came from a bush that grows in the Drylands. The locals call it sarcocolla. Its resin has many uses, some medicinal, but combining that with the sulfur, tartar, pitch, boiled salt, oil and of course the tow and the jars,” she pointed at the assortment of ingredients and items, and finally to the still boiling cauldron, “you’re making Antivan Fire, to be precise.”

Varric’s eyes were twinkling and he gave a whistle, “I knew there was something I liked about you. Now, come on over. This is the one I wanted to show you.”

He hurried at his table and pulled a large square mortar atop the crates beneath it. There was a detailed carved drawing that looked a lot like a crossbow. “Well, it’s not exactly as sophisticated as my Bianca, but it’ll do.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Come on, Glowy. It’s your own crossbow! You can’t use your dagger for shit, so the Seeker talked to Harritt and Harritt naturally talked to me to design a schematic that he can work on so you may be able to defend yourself in combat.”

Ellana traced her finger on the design. It was a detailed drawing of its parts with notes and measurements scribbled around it. The words clumped at her throat, “…I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you can thank me once it’s done. The parts are all here, I just need to assemble and calibrate. Then you can test it out yourself. Perhaps, tomorrow,” the dwarf said, tapping his chin. “There are painted hay bales Curly set up in the training grounds. I can give you a pointer or two, then.”

Ellana nodded enthusiastically, squeezing the schematic. “I would like that very much.”

Varric leaned at his table, a gleam in his amber eyes. “Say, you play Wicked Grace?”

“I know of it.”

“How about you join me for dinner then play some cards? Or whichever order you prefer. I’ve been bereft of quality company as of late. It’ll be good to have another hand to deal with. Of course, Flissa’s ale is the finest around here.” Varric’s attention drifted behind her, “oh, and you can take our stalwart knight here. He looks like he can hold his drink.”

Ellana stiffened. She had forgotten about him. Forgot she is being watched, leashed. She chanced a glance at the walking symbol of her captivity. He was eyeing her with his careful green eyes.

A part of her expected that she’d be reprimanded and dragged out of Varric’s workshop for daring to think she had any say in this arrangement of hers with the Inquisition. She couldn’t quite comprehend when Ser Adrian merely inclined his head and said, “I’ll be where you need me, my lady.”

Varric gave the largest shit eating grin. Perhaps he had thought as she did. Perhaps he too was under similar compliance. For now, it doesn’t matter. Ellana turned to Varric and grinned back. “Dinner and cards it is.”

“Dinner and cards.” He winked and set off to his work.

As Ellana strolled her way out, a thought came unbidden. Ser Adrian’s words sunk fully and she asked aloud without looking back or breaking stride. “Will you be leaving with us to the Hinterlands then, Ser Adrian?”

“Of course, my lady. I’m your sworn Companion.”

Ellana whirled around, “my what now?”

“Your sworn Companion. I swore an oath to protect you with my life,” he enunciated slowly, as if that would clear things up. She’s surprised not stupid.

“Why would you swear that?”

The man actually blushed. “Why, well – I was a Templar, my lady. When the Order fell apart, I joined the Inquisition. This is what was tasked of me and I consider it a great honor to serve you.”

So her jailor is a Templar. What's next the Circle? She shuddered at the thought.

“But the Chantry denounced us, denounced me. Doesn’t that bother you?”

The line of questioning seemed to make him queasy.

“It does,” he replied somberly, “but joining the Inquisition was the right thing to do.”

Ellana scrunched her nose at that. Leliana's warning still rang clearly in her mind. He could be one of her lackeys, spying for her.

 _The rest of the council doesn’t seem to share her thoughts._ But she doused that voice. How would she know what they really think?

Her cabin was now visible in the distance. Her cell, she corrected. Seeing it made an irrational urge to flee. An idea struck her then. If she truly is a prisoner still, she’ll push the capacity of her cage.

Before he could protest, Ellana whirled back and led the way outside the town gate and into the nearby woods, the one tethering near the frozen lake. She didn’t wait for Ser Adrian to catch up.

If he’s hoping to follow her around, best he learn to keep up.

Ellana’s been in the area several times. There were clearings from where the Mage had erected their camps. If she followed the cleared path, she knew it would lead her straight to the Northern Gate. Instead, she followed the little trail wild nugs and rams made and proceeded deeper into the coppice. There was an abandoned hut further in but she turned to the rocky outcrop with the view.

The place was quiet. Far enough for some semblance of privacy, but near enough that they could see a couple of Cullen’s men training at the fringes of the lake to their west.

Ellana cleaned a space of snow and unclasped her cloak, laying the thick cloth over the surface. She propped down the ledge with one leg dangling. Ser Adrian remained standing a few feet behind, stoic and silent. Ellana studied the crystallized gleam of ice beneath her. She can see a hazy reflection stared back.

From their spot, they can see the parting clouds and the storm of magic that is the Breach.

She reached out her Marked hand, stretching and balling it at its twin in the sky. It looked so small that she can eclipse them with her fist.

She eyed Ser Adrian in her periphery. She shouldn't be addressing him but she hadn't had anyone to talk with since she'd been isolated in that cabin.

The lonely part of her missed the voice of another person. Loneliness won over apprehension.

“Ser Adrian?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Ellana inched her head to look at him sideways. Ser Adrian gave a small smile. Amused by her child-like antics, she thought.

“Of course, my lady.”

She picked up a stone and started rubbing them on the flat ground. The mineral broke into fine white pigments.

“What do you think of the Inquisition?”

“My lady?”

“I just wanted to know your thoughts.” Her attention still trained on the marks she made on the rock.

There was a short pause before he answered. “The Inquisition rose up to defend Thedas from the dangers of magic. I believe for what it stood then and I believe for what it stands now.”

“You _really_ believe that?”

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Hmm." Ellana continued doodling.

“Do you not, my lady?”

_I don’t know._

Ser Adrian didn’t press and Ellana resumed her ministrations, content with the silence. After a while, she heard him come close, feeling his attention as he glanced at her work.

They were simple lines, similar in design to a vallaslin, but she dedicated hers to no god in particular. Ellana was no artist, never had the ability, but she did like to work with her hands from time to time. Whether a quill, a concoction or the occasional hammer. She quietly delineated the available space with a variety of thickness using her crude material. When her drawing implement was reduced to dust she gazed at her work with feigned interest.

“That’s a pretty pattern.” Ellana snorted at his attempts at flattery. Ser Adrian chuckled as he continued, “it reminds me of my sister’s embroidery, actually. Tulips, roses, fowls. She liked doing animals or anything floral. It has a nice flow. Organic, she referred to it once.”

“It’s like a vallaslin,” Ellana explained, as she pointed to the light blue mark on her face, then frowned. She didn’t know why she shared that.

“I see,” he craned his neck to see where the lines led. “It is pretty just like your valsin.”

She laughed. “ _Val-las-lin_.”

“Oh, right.”

Ellana washed the clinging powder in her fingers with snow. “I don’t expect you to have heard of it.”

“I must admit, I know very little of the Dalish. What I’ve read doesn’t detail much. Accounts I have heard vary in information.”

“Let me guess, they say that we’re savages, heathens and barbarians with no morals or culture? That we eat and steal babies or like dancing naked for some obscure blood magic ritual?”

“I’m sorry,” Adrian backpedaled. “I meant no offense.”

Ellana felt her shoulders slumped. “No… you didn’t offend. It’s just…it’s not usually a pleasant topic. Especially, with – you know.” She gestured at the entirety of him with her hand.

“A human?” he supplied gently.

Ellana just gave a shrug.

“…I understand. History between our people has always been turbulent.”

What can she say to that? The humans hunted them. Tarel’s parents died because of the same old prejudice. They lost their autonomy and their homeland. Hahren Isene had taught them the words: _We are the Dalish. Never again shall we submit._

And she submitted to the human Inquisition at the first sign of threat, didn't she?

_But then again, you don't truly belong with the Dalish, do you?_

Her _vallaslin_ is no different than the masks one wears in the Orlesian court. She is merely imitating a culture to feel like she belonged. She’s a flat-ear to the Dalish, a savage wood elf to the city elves, rabbit to humans and the list goes on. She always stands apart. Always at the fringes, never within.

Cold wind whispered down and Ellana hugged her knees close to her chest. Her days are turning longer and growing more tiresome.

She heard the soft scrunch of snow and saw Ser Adrian standing just at the edges of her now damp cloak. He unbuckled his sword belt and stretched the cloak wider. He sat down, cross-legged, sword a grasp away. He grinned charmingly.

“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here, my feet’s feeling sore with all the standing around.”

She shrugged, “be my guest.”

They both fell silent once more unable to cross the chasm of their differences and drifting thoughts until Adrian lit up and said, “say, I’ve never seen this much snow before.”

“Me neither,” she brushed some of them off her thighs. “Back home, it was always raining.”

Ser Adrian scooped up a handful and started molding them.

“My siblings and I, we were fond of this sherbet we once had during a feast. Ice costs a fortune back north and we read that down south there are mountains full of them. Well, we figured if we sail down and bring with us as much fruits as we can then we can crush and mix them with the snow. Then we can all have us much sherbet as we like.”

Ellana imagined scrawny brown-headed kids rolling around, squashing and eating flavored snow and she chuckled at the absurdity, “how did that work out?”

“Well, we managed to steal a couple of peaches before we got dragged out of our ears. Lucky they didn’t cut our fingers off.” Ellana watched as the young man made miniscule snowballs and placed them inside the swirls of her drawings. They looked like vines with tiny buds, “ah, fun times.”

“You miss your family.”

He gave her a small smile. “Actually, I miss who we were then.”

It was a light comment, but the truth of it struck her heavily. Gods only know how much she had mourned the same.

Time changed things.

It had been a few days since her tragic encounter at the Temple, but Ellana felt she had aged in years. The carefree laughter are threatening to grow less and less. Not while the Breach grows. Not when death seemed to linger in the air.

Perhaps, it's just not her. Maybe all of Haven felt the same way. She gave him a furtive nod. "I know what you mean."

She and Ser Adrian shared a look. He gave her a lopsided grin and Ellana smiled, her first genuine smile.

“So, how about you? Any childhood misadventures you want to share?”

She huffed, “and why would I want to do that?”

“Well, when one shares something embarrassing about one’s self, the other party is obliged, out of courtesy, to offer one as well.”

“I never heard of that rule.”

“It’s not a rule, it’s a courtesy. I am morally obliging you to help me restore my honor.”

“How would embarrassing myself restore _your_ honor?”

“It would even us out,” he drew a square in the air, “even Steven.”

Ellana laughed as he elbowed her and made a face. “Well, okay, I have one. Hmm…There was this one time with halla cheese…”

From there on the both of them talked pleasantly until lunch, where they headed back to Haven and to Ellana’s cabin for their own servings. Whether she can admit it to herself or not, Ellana was more than happy when Ser Adrian opted to join her eat and continued their conversation.

Until that moment, Ellana did not realize how deprived of company she truly was.

The Templar turned out to be fine company; polite, open and genuine. He was consistently well-mannered and postured, which cemented her earlier deductions of him being born to a middle or higher class with none of the pretension often associated with it. He was well-read and enthusiastic in sharing what he knew. She was pleasantly surprised when she found out that both of them were Marchers, she from Wycome and he from Ostwick. She relished the time she spent with her new acquaintance. Glad, despite herself, that out of all people in Haven, he was her personal guard. Or Companion, as he said. Ellana didn’t expect to find a kindred soul in such an unlikely situation. He talked more about his childhood and his siblings and in return, Ellana shared esoteric information from her time in her clan. He seemed to show sincere interest in Dalish culture and asked questions, expanding the exchange.

Their conversation quickly focused on weapon-crafting when his attention turned to her ironbark dagger. Ellana was flattered when he eyed them with obvious interest and their exchanged predictably dissolved to blade designs and tactics.

“…Dar’misaan blades are curved because it is made to slash cleanly against an opponent.”

“Although it wouldn’t fare well against full-plated knights or chainmail for instance, the blade will simply graze against the steel. A straight sword is more efficient in piercing through the loops and joints.”

“Well, you don’t wear plated armor in forests, right? You won't catch shit clamoring noisily and sparkling around like that.” Ellana fired back, propping her elbows and lying comfortably on her stomach.

Adrian handed her the bowl of berries. “Ser Willem Cottyng wrote extensively about the tactical maneuvering of elven warriors dating back to Glory Age. There was a more recent accounting, I believe, when your people fought with the Hero of Ferelden against the darkspawn in the siege of Denerim. There were a lot of similarities discussed between the discourses despite the encompassing difference between the two eras.”

“Well, yes. The Dalish aim to preserve the Old Ways,” Ellana grabbed a berry and popped them into her mouth, chewed at them before continuing, “and most clans prefer to remain isolated. It fosters lack of growth.”

“You sound like you disagree.”

Ellana furrowed her brows, “I’m not disagreeing to anything. It’s just an observation.”

Adrian leaned back in his chair as he studied her, “say, how come you know a lot about such things? Forgive my forwardness but you don’t strike me as a warrior.”

“I was apprenticed to our _ise’vaslen_ – I mean, our forge-master? Of course, when I meant apprentice, it was more like manning the shop. I’m pretty good with arithmetic and organizing ledgers, so Ivun – that’s the smith – found it easier to manage things whenever I’m around. Hunters hang around his tent all the time and they tend to boast so, I hear a lot.”

“I’m curious, what does written Dalish numerical and alphabet look like?”

“It’s called ‘Elven’. And I wouldn’t know. We lost most of our language, and what little remains only the Keeper and their apprentices know.” Ellana stretched, pleasantly full, as she rolled to her back, the mattress shifting under her weight. “As for me, I use the common Trade and the Neromenese system.”

Adrian brows flew to his hairline. Ellana snorted. “I didn’t always live in the woods, you know.”

“I presume as much, unless you’re the one causing wildfires using ‘incendiaries’.”

“It’s basic alchemy.”

Adrian laughed disbelievingly, “There’s nothing basic about Antivan Fire. People kill for its recipe. Even the Armada uses it, for Andraste’s sake.”

“Varric knows it.”

“Varric Tethras is a merchant prince and a well-known author in Kirkwall. He probably had dealings with the Carta, or the Coterie.” He paused at her gaping look. “Wait, you didn’t know?”

 _Merchant prince and Carta, could he know Master Biggs?_ Ellana brushed the thought aside. “…No, I didn’t.”

At the start of Kingsway, days become shorter as winter approached. The lull of autumn winds rattled the window panels, cold air blew crisply as the temperature plummeted in the advent of nightfall. They’ve been talking way non-stop the entire afternoon

“Perhaps, we should head to the tavern,” Ser Adrian mused, “we are expected, after all.”

Ellana agreed. It’s worth getting to know more about Varric. It would require time to peel all the layers of his character. The caravans where she spent her childhood used to pass by Kirkwall all the time, perhaps, he knew or even had dealings with them at some point.

As they left the cabin, Ellana stopped short, there was a procession exiting through the gates outside of Haven. There were men and women, young and old. Most of them brought unlit candles.

Ellana looked to Adrian for an explanation.

“It is custom for Andrastians to pray for their dead for forty days or until the soul passes safely through the Fade."

“The Dalish have some rituals dedicated to Falon’din, though it’s considerably less than forty days.”

Adrian hummed at the anecdote and continued, “the intention is sometimes dedicated to people who are gravely ill, or what they say is at the ‘Fade’s Door’. One such prayer was devoted to you, actually.”

Ellana remembered the mage had mentioned it. She felt a growing pit of discomfort. “…I think I heard it.”

Two women made eye contact and broke from the lines, making their way to them. They were wearing the official Chantry garb of red and white. Sisters, Ellana recornized, as their robe lacked the usual full length Chantry Mother’s often wore. The sisters curtsied before her. The sight jarred her momentarily.

“Good eve to you, Herald. Ser.” One of the sisters addressed them both. “If I might be so bold as to ask, would you join us for our Rites of Pass Over?”

Ellana was momentarily stunned. She never participated in any rite so she doesn’t know what to say. The sisters began to shift uncomfortably and Adrian had to nudge her gently to release her from her stupor.

“I – I well, sure. We’ll join you.”

The woman beamed. “That is wonderful, please come with us, your Worship.”

Ellana inwardly flinch. _'Your Worship’?_ _Can anything be worse than that?_

The sister extended her hands and Ellana took them reluctantly. The woman was smiling at her expectantly, gripping her fingers too passionately. Ser Adrian was completely forgotten. Ellana walked the familiar trek down. They led her to the south-western road, passing by Harritt’s along the way. In a small clearing by a flattened mound, a layer of large wood was set up. Another Chantry sister held the torch, a light-bearer. She seemed surprised when she sighted the four of them but quickly maintained her composure. Several of the practitioners exclaimed the same.

There were faces there that Ellana recognized.

She saw Harritt and his apprentice Pickett. The elven helper who brought her breakfast. Much to her surprise, she also saw the taskmaster, Edwin along with several of the others she had worked with before the Breach. Their eyes met and she saw the man had remembered her and quickly lowered his gaze. For a moment, Ellana wondered why and she recalled the brusque way he ordered her around. She smiled to herself. Edwin was a relentless supervisor but he was fair. He had nothing to be ashamed of. The four of them stopped by the light-bearer. The young woman smiled nervously at Ellana, before she faced the unlit logs and began her Chant:

_Understand, therefore, beloved,_

_How it is new and old,_

_Eternal and temporary,_

_Perishable and imperishable,_

_Mortal and immortal,_

_Old as regards the force_

_New as regards the Word_

_You, o Lord, our Maker,_

_We rejoice at the mystery of your Light:_

Everyone had kneeled, and Ellana clumsily followed them. The sister recited the Canticle of Transfigurations with the masses silent in their bowed heads except when they sang along to the final words: _For You are the fire at the heart of the world, and comfort is only Yours to give._

When she glanced up, the light-bearer turned to Ellana and handed the torch to her. Stunned, she began back-pedaling.

“I – I don’t think –”

“Please, your Worship. It would mean so much if you could partake.”

How can she say ‘no’ to that?

Reluctantly, Ellana took the torch from her and made her way to the pile of logs. The fire touched the oiled straw and it quickly engulfed the whole thing. The rest of the torch she threw in-between the gaps for good measure.

As the heat escalated, Ellana returned to the sisters and found Ser Adrian gazing at her. His face was hard but it held a deep look of appreciation.

The crowd bowed their heads low to their own silent prayers. Ellana did the same, out of politeness, though her thoughts strayed far from the Maker. She was not deeply religious, but there is solemnity in faith, of any kind, that she can appreciate. She turned when she felt something tugged at her sleeve.

It was the little boy from the morning.

“Are you the Herald o’ Andraste?” he whispered.

She smiled, glad she hadn’t completely scared him off. “They seem to think so.”

He scrunched his nose, probably confused by her answer. “You gottin' out o’ the Fade?”

“Yes.”

He seemed to think deeply at that, finally a look of determination steeled his face. “Can you go back and get me Pa and Ma back?”

Ellana felt like she was punched in her gut. _Oh, gods._ No wonder he reacted badly when she showed him the Mark. The Breach took his parents away.

His eyes started to glimmer, but he pressed stubbornly on. “The sisters say that Pa and Ma is in the Fade. If you can go and bring ‘em back, I won’t be alone anymore.”

Her throat bobbed as she kneeled beside the young boy. “…I’m sorry but…it doesn’t work like that.”

A fat drop of tear fell from his eyes. Ellana didn’t know what to do. She was blundering as she tried to give him some comfort.

He flinched when she touched him then he bursts into fury and pushed her off.

She stumbled back as the boy glowered at her.

“Then what good are ya?!”

Ellana was too taken aback to respond.

Ser Adrian quickly came to her, and clasped the boys arm and dragged him a far before he started kicking at her in anger and despair, screaming.

“Bring me Pa and Ma back! Bring ‘em back!” He thrashed as his voice turned hoarse, “Bring ‘em back! Bring ‘em back! Bring – !” then he crumpled in Ser Adrian’s arms, bawling his little heart out.

Ellana remained frozen in shock.

She didn’t notice the flock of people that gathered around her nor the strong hands that pulled her up.

A haze descended to her and she felt sick.

Someone was talking to her and pulling her so she began walking. She could see her feet alternating before her eyes, but none of it seems to register, just the one pounding question that bounced through her head, incessant and echoing.

_What good am I?_

Someone was shaking her shoulders. A finger pushed her chin up and she met intense green eyes. Ellana just realized that she was propped up in a crate behind Harritt’s workshop. She can still feel the exuding warmth of the distant forge. The sharp smell of iron and soot mingling with the salt of her tears as it traced her face down to her lips. She hadn’t noticed when she had gotten there.

Adrian was just staring at her, searching.

Ellana found she couldn’t look at him. Shame pushed the tears out of her lids. All the tension and isolation she bottled up for days finally toppled her off.

“He’s right,” she finally chokes out. “What good am I?”

Ser Adrian held her close, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. And once she began, words poured out of her like a confession.

“I didn’t – I didn’t want to join. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t know better. I didn’t listen…I was selfish and I didn’t listen…”

He started murmuring, _it’s okay, it’s okay_ that it started to grate on her nerves. No. It’s not okay. How can any of this be okay?!

Frustration welled up and she began to scratch at her scalp. Ser Adrian was quick to hold her wrist down and she screamed at him. She thrust her Marked, pointing at the green light emitting at her palm.

“This! It’s a mistake! I’m not your ‘Herald’! I'm not holy! I'm nobody! Why don't any of you get that over your _bloody_ heads!”

She couldn’t see past thick tears, her lashes fluttering to keep her sanity at bay like a frail butterfly against a maddening torrent. Ser Adrian had to catch her as she partially fell. Warm paddings grazed her cheeks as she sobbed. Ser Adrian sat with her in the snow, the cold wetness seeping on her cotton trousers. Her voice broke through her tears, tiny and fragile.

“How…how could one mistake made me accountable for everything…? How is any of that fair?”

“Listen, that kid was hurting. He was mourning. Naturally, he is blaming others for his pain. You just happened to be convenient. You shouldn’t take it personally.”

Ellana snapped wildy at him. “How can I not take it personally? Adrian,” she opened her hand and the magic cackled. “I practically have the Breach _inside_ of me!”

The magic that killed all those people. The magic that explicitly tied her to their deaths. Their blood was on her hand. She curled her Marked hand so hard she won't be surprised if it drew blood.

This _horrible_ magic. This...this monstrous _**thing**_!

“Look, it's not your fault," he insisted. "You didn’t cause the Breach –”

“How could you possibly know that?! I don’t even remember what happened!”

“A lot of soldiers had seen the vision at the Temple –”

Ellana wanted to roll her eyes at that. “It’s from the _Fade!_ ”

Leliana didn’t believe it, she wanted to hurl the words at him. Perhaps, in a sick and twisted way, that damnable woman is the only one acting sane.

“Would you let me finish?” He had that stretched voice like when one deals with a petulant child. Ellana scowled but stayed silent. “I’ve seen killers. I’ve hunted murderers. And believe me sweetling, you’re just _not_ it.”

Somehow, it made her cry harder. How could all of this happen to her? How did she deserve this? Ser Adrian’s response was to hold on to her tighter, trying and failing to calm her down.

She kept sobbing. “…I-If wasn’t such a selfish, selfish coward…”

_...So determined to prove herself..._

“And yet, you’re still here aren’t you? That counts for something.”

Ellana looked at him long and deep, face befouled by tears. The pain of her situation rattled within her. She couldn't cage it any longer. “…They have my family.”

She saw Adrian’s eyes widen in understanding. A sinister side of her rejoiced at his surprise.

_I'm not staying for duty. I’m not the holy-hero you all force me to be._

He said nothing for a while, pondering her words deeply. He squeezed her forearms and Ellana tried not to start crying once more, in anger and frustration. In regret and self-pity.

The Inquisition was barely starting and she couldn’t take it anymore.

She contained her tears when they both heard footsteps from a distance. The procession from earlier were coming back. He puffed a breath before grunting to stand up and extending his hand down to her. Ellana accepted mindlessly and stood. Ser Adrian led her deeper into the shadows.

The group was now close enough that they can hear the amiable murmurings. Ellana felt the rising pressure on her arm and turned to Ser Adrian. The light casted him in darkness, but she can see a sliver of reflection in his eyes, shining with so much sympathy that it made her unsure whether to thank him or slap him.

“I’ll help you,” he whispered.

Ellana was stunned. Frail hope resurrected from her battered heart.

_Help her, what does he mean?_

Her thoughts immediately went to Adahlon and Tarel, but a sudden hammer of trepidation struck her. Her conscience could not take more if another person would be jeopardized because of her. Or worse, that he be found out and Leliana would think that she was trying to cross her! The sister's warning came flooding back.

_My hands are far-reaching, elf. Do not betray me._

Before hope could soar, she stomped it down. Anxiety settled in like a familiar weight. Ellana felt regret at letting her emotions spill. If only biting her tongue would erase what she had said. The last of the procession had long since entered Haven.

Adrian proffered his arms with forced cheeriness. “Come on, we better head in before we are missed. We did promise to be somewhere.”

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She looked at him sharply, letting him know that their discussion will not be easily dropped.

Ser Adrian blinked.

“Forget it. Forget everything I said. I – I’ll find my own way… You don’t have to get involved.”

"What?"

She gritted her teeth, "I don't need your help!"

“Oh, for the love of –” he wiped at his face exasperatedly. “Please, please, by the Maker’s grace woman, stop being difficult and let those who wish to help, _help_. Okay?”

_You don't understand!_

"No!"

"Why not?

_Please!_

"Just drop it!"

"If I won't?"

Ellana tried to push past him but he held her arms and forced her to face him. "Ellana!"

"Leliana might find out!" she blurted before she could stop herself. Ser Adrian quieted as she felt her tears started rising, "I - I don't...I might get them into more trouble...So, please, please just -"

Ser Adrian knelt before her, "I swear on my honor that no harm will befall them."

"Don't," she hiccuped, "don't make promises you can't keep."

"I'll keep it. I swear."

Ellana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was starting to feel confused. "...I don't understand. Aren't you working for the Inquisition? Why help me?"

Ser Adrian raised his brows as if the answer was obvious. "Without you, there wouldn't be an Inquisition."

Ellana was skeptical. Ser Adrian sighed.

" _'Modest in temper, bold in deed'_ , those were my family's words. I've always acted upon my conscience. And my conscience says this: Let me help you."

Now she was dumbfounded.

“But why?”

“Had the circumstances been reversed and it was I in your place, I would want someone to extend the same."

Despite her worries and herself, Ellana was deeply moved. Without thinking, she threw herself at him and held him in a tight hug.

He was obviously taken aback. It took him a few seconds before he reciprocated.

He was a stranger yet he cared. Ellana felt another swell of tears but this time she knew it was different. It was gratitude. It was a relief.

“…Thank you.”

She felt him patting her on the shoulders. “You know, we would be warm and cozy by now if you just said that earlier.”

She tried to laugh, but it ended up sounding like a choke. “Just…promise me you won’t get in trouble for this.” Ellana felt the rise of his chest as he exhaled.

“I promise.”

Ellana drew back to look at him. He grinned reassuringly. Part of her knew he was lying through his teeth but she let herself believe it anyway. More the fool her. He looped an arm on her shoulder.

“So, how about that ale?”

Ellana nodded, wiping her face with her cloak and scooping a good bit of snow to lessen the puffiness of her eyes. She could hear Ser Adrian chuckling at her. She cleaned them off and asked, “how do I look?”

“Like Rosamund rebirthed.” Ellana cocked her head in confusion. “Never mind, come on.” He held out his hand and Ellana accepted them gratefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ellana's armor](https://www.medievalcollectibles.com) is based on one of displays from that link.
> 
> The Rosamund Adrian mentions is Divine Rosamund from the codex [Her Perfumed Sanctuary ](https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Her_Perfumed_Sanctuary)
> 
> The Light-bearer's prayer are taken from the Paschal mystery


	8. A Game of Wicked Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing strengthens camaraderie than a game and a few drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> `A/N September 2019: This chapter was originally part of 'The Herald of Andraste II' but I opted to separate it since its mood was staggeringly different than the previous chapter. `
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Ahhh, super-duper thankies to my girl, Hezjena2023 for beta-reading this! Mwah mwah!

Ellana allowed Ser Adrian to lead her. They walked in companionable silence as they made their way to the Singing Maiden. She felt decidedly lighter after airing all her fears and concerns out. She was able to laugh when he playfully pinched her nose for still being subdued.

Raucous laughter and outrageous hollering welcomed them as they neared the establishment. It looks as if most of Haven were inside the small patronage as the place was close to bursting when they came in. The air was thick with musk and ale and whatever food was on the table. Ellana strained her neck, but she can’t see past the shoulders of people coming at her like relentless waves.

It was Ser Adrian who finally spotted Varric, sitting at a corner table with a window, snuggled between the bar where the barmaid was stationed. The space was cut off from most of the patrons. A relatively private spot. Ser Adrian pushed through the crowd as Ellana trailed behind him.

Varric’s eyes lit up when he saw them. “There you two are. So glad you could make it!”

Ser Adrian, like the chivalrous knight from the stories, let Ellana sit at the bench first while sweeping his arms at the thing like it was a throne. “After you, my lady.”

Ellana reddened when she heard Varric chortled. She finally sat down and slid to make room when she bumped into another sitter initially hidden by the angle of the wall.

“Herald,” the mage greeted coolly.

She must have stared wide-eyed for Varric chimed in, “I invited Chuckles along. What can I say, I have a soft spot for mopey, droopy-eyed elves.”

“Ah, here I thought you simply wanted more people to swindle.” The mage deadpanned.

“Chuckles, please, don’t scare the children away.”

The mage assessed her. “Are you alright? You look…unwell.”

“Cold, is all,” she sniffed for good measure. He looked like he wanted to ask more, but opted to hold his tongue. Thank the gods for that. Ellana didn’t feel like wailing her problems to an audience. Embarrassing herself in front of Ser Adrian was enough.

She adjusted the distance between her and the mage so they don’t bump elbows or something. Adrian sat opposite them, beside Varric.

Varric raised his hand to the barmaid, “Flissa, you buxom beauty. Two more mugs and another round of your finest, please. And warm up those scrumptious stews of yours for my friends here.”

“Comin’ right up, handsome,” Flissa, the barmaid, winked before disappearing to the kitchens.

“I thought resources are being restrained,” Ellana wondered aloud.

Varric winked at her, “not for me, Glowy. I have my ways.”

_Merchant prince, right._

“So, let’s cut the deck.” Varric started shuffling the cards nimbly. Once, twice, thrice. The decks were cut in half several times over then blue decks began flying in front of them in rapid succession. His cheerfulness was infectious. Before the cards were fully distributed, Ellana found herself excited to play. Worries and pains brushed back for a time.

“I do not gamble, Master Tethras,” the mage eyed the piling cards like they offended his sensibilities.

“This isn’t gambling, Chuckles. This is companionship.”

“If we’re not gambling, what do we play for then,” Ser Adrian asked, the drumming of his finger belied the passivity on his face.

Varric mulled over the question for a second before replying. “We play for stories. The winner gets to ask questions and the loser is obliged to answer truthfully.”

Adrian picked his cards and studied them. “I won’t be losing my clothes or my wages, so, I’m in.”

“How about you, Glowy? You game?”

“Yep.” Ellana replied. She had been playing this game whenever she could get away with it. A quick hand and a good head for numbers often does the trick.

“You, Chuckles?”

The mage gracefully slid the cards to his palms in one fluid motion, a gleam to his eyes as he announced. “I will join.”

“Great, so I’m sure everyone knows the rules of the game?” Varric laid down the remaining cards at the center, accessible to all four players.

“I’m afraid I have never heard of it, till tonight,” the mage admitted. “An overview would be appreciated.”

“What they don’t have it in the Fade?” Varric raised his deck and fanned them out, revealing their quantity. “It’s quite simple, Chuckles. Each of us starts with five cards. We all take turns to draw with the remaining cards at the center table, or discard them or any unwanted cards we were initially dealt in to enhance our chances of winning. We all reveal cards once the ‘Angel of Death’ appears.” Varric whisked the card dexterously, showing the intricate print. “The winner has to show the highest combo: a set of four matching suits, followed by a numeric set of matching suits, then a pair set of matching suit. The lowest is one with few or no matching suits.”

“Can I draw from another player’s discard?”

“No, that’s considered cheating.”

“What Varric means is,” Ellana murmured at the mage conspiratorially. “It’s no problem if you don’t get caught.”

The mage’s smile was slow and wily. “I shall bear that in mind.”

“Hey Glowy, don’t fraternize with the enemy!”

Ellana giggled, “I think we ought to join forces, ser mage. It would be lovely to throw this dwarf off his game.”

“You are proposing an allegiance, then?”

“This escalated quickly.” Adrian commented behind his fan of cards.

“There will be no dwarf tossing!” Varric exclaimed in faux offense before drawing card first.

The first game went on even after Flissa delivered their food. When the ‘Angel of Death’ was drawn by Ser Adrian, all of them revealed their cards. Out of all of them, unsurprisingly, Chuckles had the weakest card, with a set pair of serpent and dagger, with Ellana on top followed by Varric and Adrian. Chuckles frowned as he gazed at her four set.

“That was my card,” he commented.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she smiled sweetly.

He looked like a kicked puppy that Ellana and Varric couldn’t help, but belt out a roaring laugh. Chuckles was the perfect image of wounded pride. Ser Adrian decided then to collect the cards and shuffled them, a task for the mage but kind soul that he is, opted to do it in his stead.

The ale was making its way to Ellana head, it also gave a pleasant hum in her body. She giggled excitedly, exclaiming loudly, “Chuckles, owes me.”

The mage frowned.

“It’s the Wicked Grace, Chuckles. Card suits are based on virtues and vices, that's a hint to the nature of the game.” Varric explained once his laughter died down.

They downed their ale, except for Chuckles who took a sip then eyed the deck with open curiosity. Ellana kept sniggering as Adrian handed the cut deck for the mage to disseminate.

Ellana looked down on her cards, two angels, one knight, one song and one serpent. A pair set of virtues are better than one set of virtue and one set of vice. The serpent has to go. She drew a card from their common and got another song.

Chuckles broke their concentration. “Varric, if one were to draw the Angel of Death, is the player compelled to show it or can they keep it in their hand?”

“Why, did you get one?”

“I was merely wondering the possibility.”

“Well, it’s not against the rules to keep it for a later reveal.”

“I see. Thank you, Varric.”

“I’m going to regret that aren’t I?”

There was a suspicious slight twitch on his lips as the mage’s eyes drifted to Ellana, for a moment she thought it glinted.

_Oh, gods. He’s one of those snakes with a long memory, isn’t he?_

Well, she has four songs now. She’s practically invincible.

And when Chuckles revealed that indeed he had the Angel of Death, Ellana was smirking in victory, only to be squashed when he drew out his card of serpents, all with a higher numerical significance than hers. She eyed one of his cards and recognized it as the one she threw out before.

“Hey! You cheat. That was my card!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he cheekily replied, posing like the image of a virgin sister. This time, the three of them laughed and Ellana felt like melting on her seat. Her ears were hot. The irony of her accusation wasn’t lost on her, and to her companions too it would seem.

Ser Adrian testing her bite, offered. “Shall I shuffle the cards for you too, my lady?”

Ellana grabbed at the cards roughly. “I can do so on my own, thanks.”

By the next game, Varric and Ser Adrian ceased playing truly and had their cards out for props as Ellana and the mage turned the simple game into a bloody vendetta.

Whenever the reveal came, whether from the mage’s hand or the others, he was always one step ahead of her. Ales come and go, the bet forgotten and the cards re-shuffled enumerable times that Ellana wondered why the paint hadn’t faded yet.

By the fifth game, Varric and Ser Adrian no longer joined in the game, instead they bet with each other on how many hands till Chuckles wear her down. Varric was winning on that particular bet. It was now their eighth deal since Ellana's last win and Chuckles had the winning streak.

“You’re cheating, I know you are!”

“Please, admit you have an astonishingly bad hand.”

“Oooh, I’ll show you bad...!"

“Show me? I am hardly the one losing. Oh, another Angel. You lose once more, Herald.”

By the twelfth game, Ellana gave up. The man was inscrutable. She can’t read him, she can’t catch his hands, and his timing was impeccable. She looked up and found herself wanting to wash the smug look on his face.

By then, Varric and Ser Adrian sat at the bar talking animatedly with Flissa, they had left them since tenth game. The patrons of Singing Maiden have reduced visibly that a few drunken stragglers remained, heads low on the table, sleeping the night away. Ellana threw her cards and huffed before she’d blow up and murder someone. Namely a certain mage in tacky green vest.

“A good game,” the mage commented airily, obviously delighted. His body was facing hers fully and Ellana’s eye caught the black jawbone necklace that rests above his midriff as his hands played at its edges absently. “It seems you owe me several questions.”

She could swear a vein in her head just popped. She gritted her teeth. “You owe me one, too.”

“Indeed, would you like to claim yours?”

Ellana worked on her lips. She only has one question. She’ll make sure she’d ask the most embarrassing and cringe-worthy one. She racked her brains but couldn’t truly think of one at the moment. She’ll wait it out. She can be patient too, when she tries. “You go ahead first, I think I’ll pass.”

“Waiting to strike when I am most vulnerable, I presume?” Ellana rolled her eyes and he chuckled once more. “Let me think…”

The mage seemed to mull it through. The longer he doesn't speak the more Ellana felt like sulking. “Ah, I thought of a question: what was your childhood like?”

“Wait, that’s _your_ question?”

“Is something wrong with it?”

“…No,” Ellana said slowly. “I must admit, the way you go at me I thought you’d ask something – I don’t know…”

“Childish? Something you are unwilling to part with?”

Ellana winced. That was too close to her idea. “Well, I mean you didn’t need to trample me in cards to ask me this. I would have answered you if you’ve just asked.”

“I will not force you to give what you are unwilling to part with. As for trampling,” he smirked. “Well, it’s best not to give leverage to an engaging opponent."

“How chivalrous of you then, Ser Chuckles,” she said dryly.

“Solas.” Ellana blinked and he gave a small smile. “My name is Solas. While the pet name is meant to be endearing, I find hearing it from Varric one too many.”

“Fine, so long as you drop the ‘Herald’ thing and call me Ellana.”

He gave a short nod. “Fair enough, Ellana.”

“So. My childhood, my childhood…” She drummed her fingers at the table, “…Well, I wasn’t born in Clan Lavellan. Ma was a _jongleuse_ , Da worked with caravaneers – which meant we move from place to place – selling stuff, buying stuff. I assisted with sorting the merchandise. We left. We wandered awhile, and then stayed at some Chantry where I learned most of my reading and writing. We left again, found the clan. I apprenticed to our smithy, and I stayed there until the Conclave. And the rest, as they say, is history. There," she dropped her palm flat to the table for emphasis "...That’s my story.”

“What of your parents, did they not stay with you?”

She cringed. Of course he picked up on that. Why can’t he just ask about other stuff, something less personal? You know, like about brontos or something.

"That’s question two, now?”

Solas gave a short nod.

Ellana downed the rest of her ale and found herself disappointed when it emptied in two gulps. “No, we… got separated. Fifth Blight happened.”

He actually had the nerve to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well. It was a long time ago.” Ellana tapped the tabletop. “You’ve got more to shoot? Because if you do, I’ll be needing more ale.”

“I would like to limit it for the day. Would you still be willing to honor the arrangement at a later date?”

“Sure, so long as you let me choose when I’d spring mine.”

“Agreed.”

Ellana clunked her empty mug to his half full. “Cheers to that.”

Flissa came to their view, “If you two lovelies could’a help with yer friend out here, I’d appreciate it.”

Raucous laughter made them turn to their sides. Varric and Ser Adrian were howling loudly, several empty mugs at the bar. A short moment later the knight was singing something so off-tune that the dwarf started moaning in a kind of tormented glee, almost falling off his stool. But before the three of them could do something about it, the tavern door opened.

A young man with the same livery as Adrian entered. Ellana was sure she had seen him before but let the thought go. The buzzing inside her head was starting to feel pleasant. She watched as he scanned the premises and spluttered.

“Adrian!” He rushed to the inebriated Companion.

“Ugh, why hello…love-ly…” Ser Adrian slurred.

The man scrunched his nose, “by the Maker, man. What happened to you?”

“No one out drinks a dwarf,” Varric exclaimed, raising his tankard victoriously and looking relatively sober. The man ignored him and carried his comrade by his shoulders. He looked around once more until his sights fell to Ellana. The way his face widened in surprise was comical. She burst out laughing.

He blustered, “m’lady Herald!”

He bowed, or tried. He didn’t consider the added weight of his friend and so they both stumbled, sending Flissa’s stools flying in all directions. Ellana laughed even more.

Solas sighed and helped the poor man to his feet. She walked to them and tried to take Solas’ still filled tankard from him but the mage was faster. “I think you’ve had enough for the night.”

The man scrambled before her. “Herald, my name’s Pellane. I’m Adrian’s relief, you know, for his guard duty?” He cleared his throat nervously. “When the both of you had not returned to your cabin I began to worry. I searched around town to find you. I’m glad that I did. Bollocks, the damned man is wasted,” he clamped his mouth shut and murmured. “Sorry. I’m just… the Commander will kill him if he finds him like this…”

Ser Adrian continued singing loudly and unintelligibly on the floor.

“Hey, do that trick that you do,” Ellana nudged Solas, whispering, “you know, make him fall asleep.”

Solas looked at her, surprised. “I thought you distrust magic."

"What? He's a Templar." Ellana replied waving at the drunk heap on the floor.

"That...didn't make any sense." Varric leaned on the bar, resting his head on his hands.

Solas waved Varric off as he scolded her, "I am not some parlor trick. Besides, Ser Adrian is old enough to deal with the consequences of his actions.”

“Come on, Solas. Please? Just a tiny, ti-i-iny help, is all.”

The mage raised a brow and she pouted in response. She gave him her best doe-eyed look. She used that to get her way around Adahlon all the time. It almost always works. She swears! Finally, he sighed, defeated.

“Fine. But I will not be treating his hangover.”

“Wow! You can _do_ that?”

Solas ignored her and with a whiff of his magic, Ser Adrian was now snoring. Pellane sagged in relief. “I’ll take my post as soon as I bring him to the commons. Thank you, messere. Herald.”

“I’m too tired to trudge down my place, say Flissa, can I spend the night here?” Varric said, as he sat by the bar, his voice muffled by the arms covering his head.

“You’ll be regretting that drink come mornin’, handsome, but sure, we have a spare roll in the back.”

Flissa led Varric through the backdoors. Ellana is impressed that the dwarf can still walk straight without bumping into anything or anyone. He gave them a wave before disappearing to the rooms.

Solas cleared his throat. “Perhaps, I should escort you to your cabin?”

Ellana snorted, “and what, tuck me to bed, too.”

“Would that be necessary, _da'len?_ ”

“I’m not a child.”

“Color me surprised.”

“You are an ass.”

“And you are drunk.”

She raised her index finger close enough to hit his nose had he not stepped back. “Drunkenness exhibits poor movement, communication and thinking. I obviously lack those and am very coherent.”

“Ellana, you’re wobbling.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Am not!”

Solas just shook his head in disbelief. Ellana tried to push him off as they walked outside. She misjudged their distance and she stumbled forward. He caught her effortlessly, offering his shoulder as a steady support. He wound her arm around his neck and supported her body through her waist.

“I amend my earlier observation. You are an articulate drunk.”

She rolled her eyes. “Y-e-e-e-s, _hahren_.”

Solas scoffed as he helped her all the way to her cabin. He deposited her to her bed, helping her pull off her tangled cloak. Ellana tugged her boots off and left them by the bedside, Solas poured her some water from a jug nearby. She laid an arm to her forehead, letting the ale usher her to sleep.

“Ellana?”

“Hmm?”

“You never really gave me an answer.”

Ellana eyed him beneath her arm.

Solas was sitting in the same stool he sat on during his last visit. “I asked what your childhood was like, not where you spent them.”

“Most people would have been satisfied by it.”

“I reckon I am not most people,” she could hear the smile in his voice

“I gave you a truthful answer. It’s not my problem…” she yawned. “…if you’re not…satisfied with it.”

“Is that your way of saying that I have to figure the rest out on my own?”

“...You really are a snake.”

“Excuse me?”

Ellana laughed. She didn’t bother to see his face to know that he would be scowling by now. “Once you coil yourself around an idea, you just don’t know how to let go.”

She heard him chuckle. “True. It is a character flaw.”

In the lingering silence after that, Ellana was easing her way to sleep, thinking that he had already left. But a light voice proved it false.

“Ellana?”

“…Hmm. What now?”

“Thank you for sharing true. It must have been a difficult topic to discuss with a stranger.”

Ellana chuckled. “Well, next time go easy, magey."

"That is assuming I can predict how you think, which would make the whole exercise of asking you questions trivial."

"Please! Don't add to the throbbing in my head," she groaned.

Solas laughed. "Sleep then, _da'len_. Enjoy the rest the ale affords you before it collects its due."

She heard the scrapping of wood as he stood up. Ellana whined. "Can't you make it not so?"

"I remember you explicitly told me," he pauses to let his words sink. " _No magic._ "

His tone was playful but his eyes spoke of something else. Ellana don't have enough clarity to sift through his layers or to debate her position. Granted, she entrapped herself with that one.

"Ugh, you'll never let me live that down."

“Not when I wish to make a point," he retorted. "I shall wait outside until Pellane returns."

"Solas?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks," she stole a glance, "...for taking care of me. You know since..." she waves her hand to everything. "I never got to -"

He just shook his head. "And you need not have to. Good night, Ellana.”

Not soon after he left, dreams had taken her over. They were pleasant for once. Ma and Da were there with her. A happy memory. She looked at the distance and found her spirit-friend, burning brightly as it sat watching over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> `A/N September 2019: Beware the comment section for spoilers!`


	9. In Ignorance, Stumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Wait, you mean like sleep with me?”_  
>  _“In a manner of speaking,”_ Solas replied innocently enough. Then his voice dipped low as he leaned forward slyly, _“I assure you, you will find the experience very pleasant.”_
> 
> Or where, Solas can't help but pull a prank at Ellana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for my darling beta-reader, Hezjena2023!!!

_Thwang!_

“Again.”

_Crang-k._

_Thwang!_

“Pff…Again!”

_Crang-k._

... In-n-nhale...

Exha-a-ale.

_Thwang!_

“What do I keep telling you Glowy…”

Ellana let out a frustrated breath, “…Stop anticipating the recoil.”

Varric was sitting atop the rocky outcrop making bolts out of the thinly chopped wood he brought with him. He was finally tired of laughing after her umpteenth attempt at hitting the red mark on the hay. So far all she can hit is everything other than what she’s supposed to. Ellana gathered the practice bolts off and checking for splinters. She threw away those that are badly damaged and kept the others.

“I flinch every time, all right? What can I do, I can’t help it.”

“Stop flinching for a start. And don’t exhale when you take your shot. You’re supposed to hold it in.”

“Great. Now I need your permission to breathe.”

“Ooooh! What’s with the cranky face,” Varric ribbed. “Get it? _Crang-ky?_ ”

Ellana rolls her eyes and slumps, sitting on a jutting rock a few levels lower than his and cradling the crannequin and the crossbow that Varric made for her. Her finger is numb from having to squeeze the stiff trigger. Her muscles are sore from the simple act of nocking the damn bolt. She eyed the target at approximately 30 paces, the red paint clean as the day it was painted. She’s pathetic. Tarel would have rolled on the ground laughing.

“I’m not doing this on purpose, you know.”

She must have sounded dejected since Varric started patting her on the shoulder. “You just got the thing like three days ago. Cut yourself some slack.”

Adrian walks out of from the lines of evergreens. The sight of him raised her spirits. It had been four days since he proclaimed his intent to help her with her two captive clanmates. She didn’t know exactly what his ‘help’ meant. But hope is a foolish thing, and she interpreted his words to best quell her own anxieties.

“A group of riders were sighted,” Adrian said as he neared. “They’d be here by midday.”

Ellana’s grin disappeared. “Is it Cassandra?”

“It’s the Seeker, alright. Trust her to be efficient.” Varric bit at the supposed target apple he’d been saving for their advanced shooting lessons.

Ellana kept glancing at Adrian for a sign of some hope. Whatever he was planning, having Cassandra around this early wouldn’t help, surely. But his face remained blank.

Varric jumped off the ledge and began to pat off his trousers for some lingering splinters then stretches. “Say, we’d better head back. Glowy here will be called for a meeting when the Seeker arrives.”

He rolled the canvas cloth over his unfinished bolts and tied them securely. The dwarf gave Adrian a meaningful look before heading towards Haven first, whistling a rowdy tavern tune.

As Ellana got up, Adrian held her by her elbow and murmured, “I’ve talked to one of the rotational guards.”

Ellana stopped and froze.

“Don't worry, I was discreet,” he soothed as he escorted her towards the town. “I think you may be able to sneak in to where your clanmates are being kept. We’ll be meeting at the Singing Maiden tonight. I’ll let you know then.”

Seeker Pentaghast arrived at midday sharp along with her entourage of recruits and a string of the finest Fereldan Coursers. High atop a dark-haired destrier with her billowing black cape, she was as imposing as Ellana last recalled. She dismounted her horse in one fluid motion. One of the pages took the reins as she ascended the last steps before the small courtyard in front of the Chantry where Ellana and the rest of the Inquisition Council awaited her.

“Herald,” she greeted solemnly. She gave a nod to the others behind Ellana. “Allow me to introduce Mother Giselle.”

A woman in Chantry garb walked forward behind the tall Seeker and gave a small deferential bow. She was tall and dark-skinned with a silent force of character reverberating in her presence. She gave Ellana a demure smile. “It is a privilege to finally meet you, your Worship.”

Ellana did her best not to cringe as she returned an awkward mumble in kind. Josephine saved her from embarrassing herself even more. “Your Grace, we welcome you to Haven. I hope you will find our arrangements to your liking.”

“Thank you, Lady Montilyet,” the mother replied in her thick Orlesian accent. “But right now, I am eager to be of use.”

All six of them entered the Council room at the far end of the Chantry. Predictably, Ellana have very little to say about matters. Mother Giselle, despite her soft voice, and kind demeanor and carefully constructed words, is savvy. She disclosed names that Ellana is not familiar with but by the glint in the Nightingale’s eyes, she was sure they were worth more than she could understand.

The mother's plan was simple: Ellana, as Herald of Andraste, must represent the Inquisition to the remaining Chantry loyalist in Val Royeaux. Their goal was to discredit the false rumors that surrounded her and cast doubt to those that spread them.

It was shaky but it was something.

Soon after, Cassandra gave them all her report about the current state of the Arling of Redcliffe. Inquisition forces are spread thin as it is and Corporal Vale was having a hard time maintaining their presence in the area. The former Circle Mages remained in asylum inside the gates of Redcliffe as per the orders of the Crown. Leliana had attempted to parley with them, but as such, the Inquisition was seen as an arm of the Chantry and the Templars. On the other hand, the Chantry thought they were in support of the former Circle mages and they denounced the Inquisition as nothing more than trouble rousers.

_Talk about being between a rock and a hard place._

Ellana thought it funny how old enemies think that a calamity is either a plot or a machination by the other side.

Rogue Templars and Mages haunted the locale with their skirmishes, transforming the lush rural into brutal battlegrounds. There are those in the Order who still believed that it was their duty to actively hunt mages. They blockade any outside interaction with Redcliffe. Their constant harassment has hurt land-based commerce around the area as merchant caravans or supplies were often targeted. While the mages outside of Redcliffe are ingratiating themselves with brigands and outlaws, making a livelihood of preying defenseless travellers and at times, going so far as to invade hamlets and farms for food and other necessities.

Ellana scowled. All the casualties were fodder for the Rifts.

It was then decided that most of the available fighting men would be sent to the troubled region. And Ellana, specifically, to seal the Rifts - another major problem that needed to be addressed. Since large contingents of soldiers marched slower, Ellana’s company would be composed of Cassandra, Solas, Varric and Adrian. Their group would ride ahead.

Setting the Arling right would be the first step towards their campaign against the Breach. The Rifts will provide Ellana ample of experience to exercise her control of the Mark and keep the peace at the ravaged locale.

Messengers came and went, and by the time they were done, candles were lit and the sun was laying low on the horizon. Ellana felt winded as they dispersed from the Council. She grinned when she saw Adrian, who had been standing rigidly for hours now as he waited for their meeting to end. He gave her a playful dog-tired look.

“Herald,” Cassandra’s voice carried through. Both of them straightened. Ellana turned towards the approaching woman. “How is your stay in Haven? I hope everything is well?”

Despite the kind questions, Ellana couldn’t help that slight tremor of fear whenever the woman addressed her.

“It’s fine,” she swallowed.

“Good.” Cassandra shifted from one foot to the other. She looked like she is on the verge of saying something, but couldn’t figure out how to say it. They stood awkwardly for a time as Cassandra’s mere presence anchored Ellana’s feet to the stone floor like lead weight.

“We haven’t had much cause to talk,” she said finally. Ellana nodded. The Seeker sighed and blurted, “tell me something, do you believe in the Maker?”

Ellana blinked. Really now, quite a line opener that. “…I don’t know much about matters of faith.”

“It is not a theological discussion I seek, only your thoughts on it.” Cassandra said not unkindly.

Now, she was starting to feel very put-upon by the sudden question.

“I just…well, personally, I don’t think much about it. I mean, when you think of the Maker or the gods of my people, you’d start drifting to thoughts about fate and destinies, pre-ordination and so forth. I think the thought just tangles, you know?”

If Cassandra was disappointed in her answer, she didn’t show it. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason even if you do not.”

Ellana nodded again and silence descended upon them once more. She would have felt relieved to know that whatever trepidation she had with the Seeker, it was pretty obvious the woman felt the same. Still, the stretching stillness was bordering painful. Cassandra was to end their misery by leaving, but it was then that a question itched out of Ellana’s tongue.

“Do you…?"

Cassandra stopped short, waiting.

"Um…nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Do speak your mind.” The Seeker stood tall like wall.

Ellana is no doubt sure that she won't leave until she hears her piece. _Damn tongue of hers..._

“…Do you really believe I was touched… by Andraste?”

“I do not deny the circumstance of your survival was suspicious. And yet you were what we needed when we needed it most. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us. ”

It wasn’t truly an answer, Ellana thought. “That’s fair.”

Cassandra shrugged.

Ellana gave a small smile, a dismissible twitch at the corner of her lips, “well, I won’t keep you Seeker. Good eve.”

“You too, Herald.” She disappeared to the East Wing.

Ser Adrian walked at her side as they headed to the tavern for their supper. They had arranged for it and every night since and settled in their corner at the Singing Maiden. Flissa had food prepared as soon as Ellana came in.

Ser Adrian bid her his leave as he went to a secluded corner. Probably to meet his contact, she thought with hopeful excitement. She opted to carry her tray with her as she went to their table.

Varric was at the center of the throng, the table acted as a stage for the night as he had another retelling of a bawdy story. There were hootings and wild laughter. Ellana’s eyes returned to the inconspicuous corner and saw Ser Adrian exchanging quietly to another man in uniform. When their eyes met, he winked at her before turning his complete attention to his acquaintance.

At their usual haunting sat Solas. She sidled at the opposite bench.

A half-empty bowl of cold stew and ale was laid untouched before him. His attention was absorbed by the bound journal that is precariously slanted at the edge of the table as it rests atop his crossed thigh. His quill was scratching in controlled and rhythmical strokes, pausing only when his eyes drifted up to some spot before glancing down again.

Ellana followed his gaze and saw a wrinkled man, stooping low while his hand shook as he raised his spoon to his cracked lips.

“I enjoy observing,” Solas said without preamble as his attention remained enamored.

“Observation is the pillar of understanding, someone told me once.” _Master Biggs._ Ellana wondered, after the years since their separation, how that old dwarf is doing now.

Solas spared her a look, “wise words.”

She nodded as she broke the bread and dipped it in the stew. They sat in silence as he continued his sketching and she ate.

“I am fascinated by his desire to continue living, even if it means suffering,” he started again as he repositioned his pen in-between his index and middle finger and proceeded to get his brush and dipped the hair to a small container filled with water.

“You sound like you’ve never seen old people.”

“Considering his class and the harsh means of livelihood, it is a rare occurrence for one to survive to such an age. Especially someone as lonesome as he.”

“You don’t know that.” Ellana looks up to him but his eyes never strayed from his subject.

“No. He is alone.”

Ellana glanced back to the man once more. He was struggling to eat with the constant shake of his arm. The stew spilled and splattered on his beard. He didn’t even bother wiping them. His eyes were glazed and appeared to be looking far, far away, far beyond the rickety panels of wood. Somewhere very distant. Like the past.

Ellana thought him a very lonely picture.

Solas placed the open journal down. He looked contemplative.

She looked down at his work and could see the inverse of his sketch.

“Can I see?”

Solas turned the drawing right-side up to her. It was made of black ink in short hatches. The rest of the details were blurred by a wash, the details were focused on the subjects dewy eyes as the candlelight struck a sharp light, making it look like unshed tears. It was a moving picture and very precisely rendered.

Honestly, she is surprised. Ellana didn’t expect he had it in him.

“…This is beautiful,” she breathed.

“Thank you.”

“Where did you learn to draw like that?”

“I taught myself,” he says simply. He turned the journal towards him and began dipping his quill, eyes roaming for new subjects. There was lightness to his expression now.

After spending days with him, Ellana quickly realized that Solas is not the most forthcoming person. He kept to himself and he always had a heavy look about him, like a veil he constantly puts between himself and the people around him. She thought of how exhausting it must be to keep yourself always at an arm’s length. But she could sense a deeper sensitivity hiding beneath his stoicism.

Ellana watched him, still sketching away. She ruminated about the old man and what he had said. Was it empathy she detected in his voice? Or a kind of understanding, born out of shared experience?

Regardless, it made her want to be his friend.

She beamed as she picked up their conversation once more, “it must have taken a lot to master such a skill.”

“I am no master,” he humbly said but the light pinch on his cheeks betrayed his delight. “I simply find the exercise most suited with my other interests. My dreams often leave lasting impressions. There are things that I wish to recall that words alone cannot suffice.”

“Lucky you,” Ellana mumbled mostly to herself.

_Dreams…_

It used to be fleeting and pleasant with the few exceptions from time to time. Now, she couldn’t remember a night where she felt adequately rested or waking up without being in a constant state of panic.

She finished the last vestige of beef on her bowl with a swirl of her bread. It took her awhile to notice that he kept glancing at her. When next he looked, she pointedly raised her brows.

He glanced down, his quill moving measuredly. “Do your dreams bother you?”

“…No…?”

Solas pinned her with a look.

Ellana pursed her lips, “…Fine. A bit.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

She scrunched her nose, “why would I want to do that?”

“Because you are speaking to someone who can give you reputable insight to the nature of the Fade,” he said smoothly.

 _Huh._ _When he puts it that way…_

Still, she can’t help her playful grin, “are you sure you aren’t fishing for something juicy to gossip?”

“I am saddened to hear you think so little of my integrity,” he said lightly. “But I understand if you have no wish to discuss it. I am aware how the topic discomfits you.”

His ‘understanding’ didn’t reflect on his face, Ellana thought. She could almost feel him emitting a wave of disapproval.

“Look, Solas, what I think about magic I…well, I have my reasons,” drumming her bandaged hand at the tabletop. “And you’re a mage. I know what this seems like to you, like I am rejecting a part of you that you have no control over, ergo rejecting your personhood, or some such.”

She straightened as this seems to have caught his full attention. “But that isn’t the case. I have no problems with you, or who or what you are. Sparkle all you want, just keep it off of me, is all.”

“How can you accept someone fully without accepting an integral part of who they are? Is not the statement paradoxical?”

“No…not really? I mean, at least not to me. I mean, your value as a person, doesn’t diminish just because I find magic… _dislikeable_.”

_To say it lightly._

He gave a pained look as soon as she uttered the word ‘dislikeable’. But truly, can he blame her for feeling that? She had enough experience of magic to last her several lifetimes. Had she the choice, she wouldn’t even touch it with a ten-foot pole. No, erase that. She wouldn’t even breathe the same air with it. Still, she felt bad for stating how she felt honestly.

“I envy your ability to compartmentalize,” he commented lightly, but his tone sounded stretched.

Solas was quiet for a time. His focus returned to his journal. She played at the thickened fat that accumulated at the bottom of the stew. She could still feel him glancing at her. At the fifth time she caught him, she asked. “What is it? Is there something on my face?”

“Hmm? Ah. No, nothing.” He began to work more quickly. He was about to dip his brush on the water once more, but he stopped short.

He seemed to think twice before finally speaking, “the Fade once showed me of a time when magic flowed freely in this world. It was as common as the breeze and grass and water. A time where elves were once immortal and magic was a part of their being. They experienced it as natural as breathing,” Solas said wistfully. “Had you been born during the height of Arlathan, magic would have been a part of you. No different than your limb.”

Ellana replied. “What you saw was in the Fade. A dream. It’s not real.”

His lashes flutter severely before looking down. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he only shrugged. “I suppose,” then he dipped the brush.

She folded her legs to her body and leaned her cheek to her knees as she mulled at his story, seeing the distant past through dreams sounds amazing. If not unreal. Who knew what he saw? Whatever things that lingered at the Fade must have constructed something to entice mages to wander away. Demons like to do that right?

But the spirit from her dreams, it was different. There was no malice emanating from it. It felt like being tucked under an eiderdown in the midst of cold winters.

_Perhaps, there is some merit to his words._

But still, a part of her remains wary. It is the Fade after all. Nothing in it can be trusted, Deshanna usually preached to her acolytes.

_But what is it?_

Ellana watched him as he continued his work, when their eyes meet next, she asked. “Solas, what do you think of spirits?”

“Spirits as opposed to demons?” he perked up.

"Aren't they different?"

"No, they are not dissimilar. In fact, they are the same," he gave a small smile as he explained the semantics. “The Fade reflects the minds of the living. Consequently, our perceptions when we dream are malleable, our expectations place a huge role in shaping our encounters with them. If you expect a spirit of wisdom to be a pride demon, it will adapt. But if you free your mind to preconceptions and understand the nature of the spirit before you, then the Fade transforms into a realm of limitless possibilities. A spirit is a purpose. A demon is that purpose perverted.”

Ellana felt bewildered, “is it really that simple?”

“In theory, yes. Mastery of the Fade requires mastery of self. That is not easily done. Regardless of discipline, not everyone has the ability to walk the Fade with acuity. Such talents are rare, even amongst mages. They are referred to as dreamers. I am such one. But your situation makes you unique. That Mark in your hand gave you the same ability to manipulate the Fade and in return poses you with the same risks.”

She shudders. She grew up with stories of demons stealing your mind within your dreams. “What do I do then?”

“There are ways to alleviate the risks. I can show you my methods,” Solas offered readily, but his eagerness died just as quick. “Although…”

“What? What’s the problem?”

Solas places his journal down and pushes it to the side, letting the ink dry. “To show you, it would require that I join you in the Fade.”

Join me in the… “Wait, you mean like sleep with me?”

Solas' eyes widened.

As soon as she realized what she said, fire spread to her ears. Ellana tried to splutter an apology but Solas deftly disarmed her with a tilt of his lips.

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied innocently enough. Then his voice dipped low as he leaned forward slyly, “I assure you, you will find the experience very pleasant.”

The way his lower lip rolled as he enunciated each syllable lit her like a match. The apology died in her mouth. Ellana flapped her lips like a dying fish, looked like one too, most probably.

His eyes livened, crinkling at the outer edges.

Ellana started to sweat under her collar. She couldn’t bear the heat of embarrassment so much that she covered her face with her hands.

Then she heard Solas tried and failed to smother his chuckling and a few beats after, he began to laugh in earnest. Not his usual demure chuckle but a full-bellied one.

Ellana wouldn't be surprised if tears sprung from his eyes. She had never heard the man laugh like that before, not even after hearing one of Varric's best jokes. The sight would have been quite a revelation, if it didn't rankle her. “You’re terrible,” Ellana finally managed to breathe out, her voice muffled by her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughter still shook his voice. _No, he wasn't._ She felt too self-conscious to look at him.

He tried to gently pry her hands off her face but she wouldn’t budge. Solas was still chuckling and pleading, “Ellana, I admit, it was terrible of me. Please, look at me. I will behave now. I promise.”

She peeked at him between her fingers. Teeth showed as he smiled at her reassuringly. Ellana finally freed her face but she still couldn’t look at him straight. She must still look like a peeled tomato. Ellana was no prude or anything. Flirted, sure. But no one had outright addressed her so, so boldly, not even in jest. And Solas was…well, _Solas_. Ellana felt odd thinking of him that way.

_He isn't really displeasing to look at…_

She stomped quickly at the thought. _No. It's just...no, no, no, no, no._ Ellana shook her head, as if it would throw the concept out of her mind. He filled her mug with water and pushed it to her. She took it and downed the cool beverage.

“Does the idea still bother you?”

Water rose to her nose and Ellana went on a choking fit.

“I meant the sharing of dreams,” Solas elaborated.

She patted her chest aggressively, coughing the damn water out. “Oh, yeah…yeah. Of course…I mean, no! No. Not at all…well, I think.”

Solas patiently waited for her as she swatted her arms uselessly against her fog of folly. “I mean, it’s fine! The dream! I think…Wait. No. It’s fine. Fine.”

“I see. Will tonight be a good time?”

“What?” Ellana squeaked. “Like… _now_?”

Solas remained placid. Too innocent looking. But the minuscule trembling of his lips betrayed him.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re still shitting me.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

Ellana glared.

“No…” then his nostrils flare in barely concealed mirth, teeth flashing as he nibbled his lower lip guiltily. “…Yes. Yes, I am.”

Ellana glared harder.

He grinned boyishly in turn. "I admit, it is quite fascinating to see you go ballistic."

“I don’t appreciate being a source of amusement."

He cleared his throat, wearing a more serious countenance, “No, of course not. You are more than that.” His gaze softened and he limit himself to a penitent smile. “You are attractive. It would seem that the sight loosened my tongue and allowed my japes to run more freely. I hope you’ll find my lapse of judgment forgivable.”

She snorted, “that doesn’t sound very sorry at – wait, _what?_ ”

“You are an attractive woman. Is this the first time you have been told so?"

Ellana stumbled on her own tongue, “Wait…wait. You think... _what?_ ”

"No. I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate."

If jaws could dislodge and fall, Ellana was sure hers would be clattering down on the ground by now.

Solas was looking at her straight-faced. Was that a joke? He’s not laughing. In fact, he had on a perfervid lilt on his lips. As if to convince her of his words, he pulled his journal and brought it to her.

She recognized the face...

_It was her._

Rendered in clean and confident lines, she looked…elegant. Lovely. Dare she even say, beautiful. Things she never thought about herself before. Ellana sucked in a breath.

 _Is this how he sees me?_ She can't help the blush the spreads to her cheeks.

Hold on. Was he flirting with her? Like…for real _real_?

She looked up to him and saw that he was quietly watching her. Perhaps, waiting for a response. Ellana wriggled at the attention. There was an intensity in his gaze that at first one can mistake as interest.

But, despite his forwardness, there was nothing risqué in his attention. A glaring difference to any of her previous flirtatious interactions - how little they may be. In fact, when he is not trying to make her feel flustered, he sounded clinical and even, like he is commenting about the weather.

 _No, he's not flirting with you, you silly sap._ Ellana mentally slapped herself. _You are overreacting._ Still her chest pounded. Realizing she had dragged the silence long enough, she coughed. “Oh...well, umm, this is finely done."

“ _Ma serannas._ I am pleased to hear you say so.”

She returned his journal. something tells her that it’s only polite to return such a touching gesture. “Umm, you uh look…y'know," she drew at the air around her face "...handsome yourself.”

Solas lifted his chin at a higher angle as he gave her an amused half-smile.

Then something clicked.

Nothing in their awkward exchange made him uncomfortable, she noticed. He's very casual about it all. In fact, he was too casual and too smooth. She was under the impression that apostate mages avoid most social interactions in fear of being discovered.

_Apparently, our resident hedge mage wasn't much of a hermit, after all._

Well, either that or the Fade truly was a place of educational wonder.

Her 'outcast Dalish' theory was starting to gain traction. Though he was so unlike any Dalish she had ever met. Or any city elf for that matter. The way he postures sometimes, she might have thought he was some kind of prince.

Ellana tried to level his gaze, to try to fit it all together, and he tilted his head as if he found her attempts somewhat endearing. _Challenging._ Despite his bog-standard appearance, Solas remained an enigma.

But if Ellana was sure about something, it is this: Solas is no pursuer.

He is a provocateur.

He played with her limited experience and just made her look like a babbling fool. One misconstrued question and he pulled the rug under her. Gods, he got her there good. _It is kind of funny, come to think of it. I'd pay someone to see it on someone else._ Understanding his game didn't lessen the fluttering of her pulse but it helped her regain a bit of her focus.

Ellana laughed her tension off.  _"Gods!_ I walked myself into that, didn't I?"

Knowing she caught on, his face changed. The neutrality dropped and he grinned mischievously.

She can't help but grin back. "You are a snake."

"So you have said before."

“You’re not even denying it.”

“I neither concede nor contest.”

Ellana crossed her arms. “Fine, have it your way. But know I’m onto you.”

His lips curled. “Of course. I would not wish for your attention to stray."

_Damn, the sweet-talker._

Ellana felt warm all-over. She rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha. Right, trickster. You can't shut if off, can you? But, nope, you’re not getting me this time." She wiggled her finger at him. "Tricked me once..."

Solas only laughed.

"The damned sketch was really good touch, though."

That actually made him blush. "Not all tricks are lies."

"Riiiight," she leaned over to him conspiratorially, "next time you work the charm, rid the damn thing. That vest isn’t helping your case, just saying.”

He looked down and patted the tacky thing and he laughed along good-naturedly. “Duly noted.”

She curled an errand hair back to her ear. She's not surprised to find it still felt hot.

Solas leaned back in his chair and she found she could breathe loosely now that a bit of distance had been established. He absent-mindedly ran his hand over his journal, making idle round patterns on its cover with his finger.

The silence that followed was heavier than usual. Ellana brushed it off. Perhaps now would be a good time for her head to regain its functions and steer them in safer waters? _Yes, brilliant idea, Ellana. Do that._ She cleared her throat again, drumming her fingers on the solid table. _Right on the topic at hand..._

“Look, Solas. About that sharing-thing? I mean…I don’t generally have, um, good dreams. I don’t know much about Fade and stuff, but I sometimes hear our Keeper Deshanna talks about the terrible things that happen to mages when a dream goes awry...”

He straightened immediately and became the hedge mage once more, “I appreciate the concern, but I have encountered a fair share of my own in the Fade. I am not unawares.”

He is sincerely determined to offer his help, which was touching.

Ellana tried to weigh her decision thoroughly. Preparations had been made since Cassandra’s arrival. They’ll be leaving Haven at the first break of light. She would be facing whatever the Rifts dragged from the other side. If she couldn’t deal with the ones in her dreams, how could she even fare with the ones bursting into her reality?

She remembered when she tried closing the first Rift. The pain had long faded away but the memory of it…

In such moments, she could sympathize with the people who feared magic. If this was the constant threat from the other side and mages were like a portal for them to enter through, they had every right to be afraid. Ellana looked down on the Mark in her hand.

They should be afraid of her, too.

As if sensing her discomfort, he reassured her, "you do not have to agree tonight. Take your time to consider. It is not a decision to be taken lightly."

She smiled worriedly and nodded.

“Lady Ellana.”

She felt Ser Adrian’s hand by her shoulder and startled. He still called her with an honorific, at least in public. ‘Lady’ was better than’ Herald’, she thought.

He eyed her strangely then Solas. He continued to address her, “Am I interrupting?”

“No, Ser Adrian,” she said after a while. Her her heart was pounding as she asked her question. “Are we to leave?”

“Yes, my lady. If it pleases you.”

Ser Adrian looked and spoke neutrally, but Ellana could feel the rise of frantic energy affecting her body. She turned to Solas. Whatever they were discussing was immediately thrown to the back of her mind. She tried to school herself, hoping the mage wouldn't notice her change of countenance. “I’ll think about what you said, ‘kay?”

“Of course.”

She gave a brief smile, “thanks.”

She tried not to knock onto the table as she stood hurriedly. Ser Adrian gestured for her to lead as he trailed behind her. Outside they acted like the Herald and her sworn Companion, but once her cabin doors were closed she whirled to him. “What is it? Did you learn something?”

Ser Adrian grinned widely. He gave a thumbs up. "As soon as signal comes, we’ll sneak you right in.”

“We?”

Ser Adrian waved his hand dismissively. “Just get ready.”

She changed her cloak to a darker and less conspicuous shade. They waited in the cabin for some time. Ellana worried the floor with her pacing, wringing her hand in endless loops. Ser Adrian sat by the window, eyeing the surroundings, perhaps waiting for that mysterious signal. She heard a soft rustle, then a horrible imitation of a sound.

_Hoot-hoot hoot-hoooot!_

Ser Adrian opened the window shutters and pulled something, rather someone in. All Ellana could see is a huff of blond hair and she immediately rounded on them.

“Varric!” Ellana turned to Ser Adrian, scowling. “You brought him into this?”

Ser Adrian shrugged guiltily, “he knows everything worth knowing in Haven.”

Varric raised his hands placating, “Listen, Glowy. Don’t drop the bucket on this one. Wonderboy’s right, I know everything worth knowing around here and I decided, well, you might need an extra pair of hands.”

Shifty smuggler, indeed. Varric had forgone his usual gold embroidered red tunic and brown leather jacket for a darker and more subdued pair of maroon-ish colored cloak and dark brown set of tunic and trousers. He looked less like a merchant prince. Ellana exhaled. Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Besides if anyone can stand up to the powers that be of the Inquisition, that would be Varric Tethras. Reading the acceptance in her face, he smiled wickedly.

“I hope you know what you are getting into,” Ellana warned. “If they find out…” Leliana’s words flashed in her mind and she shuddered.

“Don’t worry, Glowy. We’ll sell out so quick, they wouldn’t be able to tell a tree from a shrub,” he rubbed his gloved hand together. “So, c’mon, let’s scram.”

“I’ll be outside and stay on guard. Keep up appearances,” Ser Adrian said. “Good luck you two. Maker be with you.”

Despite their differing beliefs, Ellana acknowledged his word with a thankful nod.

The night hid them as they left Ellana’s cabin by the window. Varric took the lead, leaning closer to the shadows. Ellana followed after his signals. Contrary to Ellana’s beliefs, Tae and Adahlon where not kept in the dungeons below the Chantry, rather they were secluded in a room near the old refectory turned infirmary. The building was a two-storey stone and wood architecture. They quietly made their way up, Varric whistled low and the guardsman by the door started walking in the opposite direction. To say she was amazed would be a total understatement. The night had turned out better than she anticipated. Varric slipped a key off his pockets. The wooden door unlocked.

“Go on right in, I’ll be outside,” Varric whispered. “You have approximately an hour before a new guard will take this post.”

Overcome with gratitude, Ellana palmed his face and kissed both his cheeks. “Thank you so much!”

“ _Shhh!_ Go, go. Thank me later.” Varric pushed her forward.

Her heart was pounding so much, her hand shook as she reached for the door handle. The wood creaked lightly. Inside was dark. The windows were boarded shut. All she could see was a lone candle light shine, held by an embedded iron at the wall. The room was relatively small. Smaller than her cabin, that is. It was bare, the only furniture are two adjacent beds each pushed at the far wall. She heard a chain rattled, and then a figure moved, silhouetted by the light.

“Who’s there?”

She recognized the voice, tears threatened to cloud her eyes. “Tae!”

“Ellie?” Tarel’s voice lost its hostility. “Ellie! Is that you?”

Ellana ran towards him and pulled him into a tight hug. She heard him grunt as they collide, but he quickly wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back just as tight. She felt his hand run through her short hair as he pressed her temple on his cheek, rocking her and mumbling. “Ellie, Ellie…”

“Tae, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine…Ellie, Creators! I was so sick with worry about you…”

“I’m alright, Tae. I’m just fine,” Ellana pulled herself from their embrace. “See?”

He looked her all over, eyes shining and round like a full moon. His hands drifted to her shoulders. She saw him incline his head.

“Adahlon, how is he?”

She felt his grip tighten, “they brought him out the last time his fever didn’t break. The shems decided he’d be better off at their infirmary, where he’s being continually watched.”

Oh, no no no no…

Tarel tilted her chin up, “hey, he’s going to be fine. He’s a tough one, that.” She could hear his voice crack and she knew for a fact that he only said that for her benefit. Ellana worried at her lips. Oh, _Adahlon… Ba’lin… Please, please be alright…_

“Ellie, I heard the guards talking,” Tarel said inauspiciously. “About the Temple, about the Mark on your hand…”

“I –” Ellana swallowed. “I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember anything. I’m so sorry.” Ellana braced for a reprimand.

But it never came.

Tarel’s hardened face broke to one of sympathy. “Oh, Elle…What did I tell you…?”

“…Don’t touch the glowy things.” They both said in unison. Ellana gave a hollow laugh.

Tarel reached out to her and comb her hair back soothingly. The gesture was too much. And like a dam bursting, Ellana sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

He embraced her tenderly, “ _shhh… shhh_ ”

“I – I should have listened to you. To all of you. I was not cut out for this. I – I was so scared. I was a burden to the clan. I – I thought,” she hiccupped. “…I thought that if I make myself useful, Deshanna wouldn’t trade me off.”

“What?” Tarel looked her over. “What in the Void are you talking about?”

Ellana swallowed, “Hahren Isene said that if I – if I…If no hunters would bond with me, Deshanna will be forced me to marry me off to another clan… So… I might be of some use somewhere, have a chance. Because, they wouldn’t know of my past… And I would lose you, and Adahlon and – and…”

He cursed. “Asha’telam! Ellana, look at me,” Tarel grabbed her by her shoulders, “Look at me. Do you honestly think I would let that happen?”

“I – I don’t…”

She didn’t finish her words as Tarel drew her body towards him as he leaned low. Their lips met, soft and tentative. Ellana gasped in shock.

He took that as permission to deepen the kiss. His hands stroked freely on her back, reaching her waist and squeezing.

Ellana jolted and turned her head.

His lips left trail marks along her jaw.

She stilled.

He breathes at the slope of her neck, or what little of it that her coat revealed. His hands burned her despite the thick clothes she wore. “Ellana,” he began thickly. “For a long time, I –” he licks his lips. “ _Ar lath ma._ ”

Ellana closed her eyes. “Tae, I…” she opened them and saw him stare down at her with such hope in his eyes. But she can’t really think about that, after all of this. Not now. She cares for him, she really does. Does that mean love? She doesn’t know. And to top it off with all of the things that is going on right now… How can she explain all of it? Simply put, she’s a mess.

“…I need time. To think. This is…too much for me right now. I can’t…”

His hands fell to his sides. “Of course.”

She looked up to him, pleading for him to understand, but she couldn’t read his vacant expression.

“I –”

“Don’t apologize.”

He backed off a step or two. The room dropped to a chill. As Tae moved to sit at the bed, his ankle-chains rattled. Nearer to the light, she could see his profile much clearly. He looked gaunt and pale. Elgar’nan’s golden vallaslin looked more severe on his thinning face. His usually prim and braided light chestnut hair was all askew. His once brown eyes full of mirth now look dark and troubled.

Ellana sat beside him on the bed and held onto his hand. One moment, they felt like hearthfire, now it was a dying ember. They didn’t speak and briefly she thought he had shunned her completely. But after a while she felt him squeeze hers back.

She felt equal relief and sorrow.

“I have to go,” she says after a pregnant pause. “I won’t be back for a while.” She saw him turn his face at her. “I agreed to join the Inquisition. I know how you feel about humans but…it was the only way.”

His look was intense and his hand tightens on hers, “I’ll find another way. I promise.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“Don’t be silly,” he nudged her by the shoulder. “I could never hate you.”

Ellana smiled sadly at him. The confession didn't surprise her as much, now that she thought about it. Perhaps, she always knew, felt, it.

He patted his shoulder and she laid her head there like she always did when they were younger. Tarel placed his arm around her. He had always been the shoulder she cried on. Her closest and dearest friend. He had always been special to her. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be too difficult to return his affections… When this is all over and she survives… They can all go home and then… She smiles at that. A future that she can look forward to...

A reason to wake up and keep fighting.

Tae gently rested his cheek on top of her head and rocked them both to an internal tune. They spent the rest of their time that way, drifting off to their own thoughts, content and comforted by each other's company.

Varric’s low whistle broke through.

Ellana stood up. She could feel Tarel’s eyes follow her, but he didn’t move.

“I’ll come back.”

He nodded.

She just stood there for a while until she heard another urgent whistle. Then she began dragging her feet to the door. As she reaches the handle, he calls out.

“Ellie.”

She turned.

His back was to the light and his eyes glows an ominous gold discs against his darkened face. A cat's eye. His words dropped like a stone on still waters.

“Be careful. Elves meddling in _shemlen_ affairs never end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N September 2019: Beware the comment section for spoilers!
> 
> Asha’telam - lit. bad woman. But in this context, i'm going for something akin to 'old hag'
> 
> THANKS TO FENXSHIRAL for the Elven
> 
> Kudos and feedbacks are appreciated!


	10. 'Neath Bond and Blade I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Why must the Shield of Alamarr shatter_
> 
> _'Neath bond and blade? To the wisest I sang,_
> 
> _To the wing'd cup-bearers of the tall sky-vaulting,_
> 
> _To the wintry halls of strong mountain-kings,_
> 
> _Where in days forgotten, voices there raised_
> 
> _Might be gift'd answer and those seeking find._
> 
> Andraste 1:3
> 
> * * *
> 
> Hinterlands Story Arc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Hezjena2023 for beta-reading! What would i do without you?!

Ellana was feeling groggy. She had not slept a wink. Her head swam with worries for Adahlon. Tarel’s confession and caged look haunted her just as much and she tossed and turned with guilt on her feathered bed.

Adrian officially woke her with a knock and a tray of breakfast. He frowned as soon as he entered.

Ellana was fully-dressed for travel. The brigandine Harritt made for her was stuffed under a layer of fur coat. She was in the middle of repacking her things repeatedly now, for a number of unnecessary measures.

Adrian placed the tray at the table and his watchfulness was telling.

Ellana re-tightened her bed roll for the fourth time. “ _Ba’lin,_ he…” she started. The knapsack crumpled as she fastened it on its top. “…He isn’t getting better… I mean, I don’t really know. He wasn’t really there, you know. He was relocated to the infirmary.”

He sat beside her.

Ellana turned to him, “…I mean that’s good right? It means the Inquisition is doing their best.”

“But you are still worried.”

Ellana wrung her hands. “I don’t how I can’t be!”

Adrian nodded, he motioned to the yet untouched tray. “Why don’t you have something to eat first?”

“I don’t feel hungry.”

He looks at her shortly before standing up and taking an apple and tossed it to her.

Ellana caught it by instinct.

Adrian breaks the stale bread and popped it to his mouth, “Eat. You’re not doing anybody any good, moping around like that.”

She scowled. “Pushy.”

Adrian only grinned back. “The Seeker will chew me off if something happened to you.”

Ellana scowled at him, but shrugs then took a bite.

“Listen,” he said as he leaned forward. “The best you can do for your uncle right now is to take care of yourself and trust that he is doing his best to be better for you.”

“And when did you turn into a sage?”

He laughed toothily, “I have sisters. Have you ever dealt with three angry sisters? I’d take down a wyvern any day.”

Adrian packed the remainder of the bread and fruit and tied them inside a sack and attached them to a joint on her knapsack. He carried them despite her tired protest and waited for her to follow him out, “come on, Seeker Pentaghast isn’t known for her patience.”

Outside, the rest of the Inquisition soldiers were also preparing for their long flight. On foot, they may reach the Hinterlands a week after Ellana’s team, they have the bonus of speed as they will be heading out on horses.

Adrian arranged her things and her saddle.

She heard footsteps crunching behind her. Cullen’s voice was carried downwind. “Think about it Cassandra.”

The Seeker grunted. “I have. The thought does not sit well with me.”

“You declared the Inquisition, isn’t the right to lead us your prerogative?”

“Leliana was with me as well. We are both Hands of the Divine. Her claim will be just as good as mine. Josephine will rightfully support her should she present herself viable.”

“And I you.”

They were close enough now that Ellana could see them making the last steps down to the gates.

Cassandra glance at the Commander amusingly, “it seems we are at an impasse then.”

“It’s terrible. We can’t even make a consensus out of anything.” Cullen grumbled, albeit good-naturedly. Just as it came, his amusement died, “Without an Inquisitor, we are a headless organization.”

“It’s enough that people are contented to rally behind the Herald.”

“For now.”

Before they could notice her, she raced to her horse. If they saw her, they might decide to include her in their small talk. She avoided the Council as much as she can for fear of whatever trouble their attention would warrant her, and by the tone of their conversation, a very likely outcome.

Adrian was about done with her horse and he proceeded to secure his own. By then, Cassandra has reached hers and Ellana sighted Solas and Varric exiting the main gates while Cullen saw them all off at the last steps. They all gave each other a brief acknowledgement and left as soon as the sky had turned a purplish-pink.

Their travel down to the Hinterlands was relatively peaceful. Following a loose train, Cassandra was at the vanguard of the party followed by Ellana, Solas, Varric and lastly at their back guarding, was Adrian. The usually five-day travel was shortened to three and a half. They could have gone much faster if not for their occasional stop to allow the horses some rest.

However midway, as they neared the East Road, Solas dispelled the tranquility.“Seeker, in my travels, I came by the knowledge of an old Elvhen artifact along the area. It can help us measure the strength of the Veil. It would be remiss to not try and have it serve to our purpose.”

Cassandra exhaled, “direct us to it then.”

By mid-afternoon, they came by an old ruin embedded into the side of a mountain. She felt the familiar tingle on her Marked hand and soft vibration of her enchanted dagger as they alerted her to an unleashed magical energy nearby. A loud **boom!** followed by a flash echoed on the mountainous slopes.

Ellana dreaded witnessing another fight.

Everyone drew their weapons as they galloped towards the source of the spell. An elven woman, dressed in chainmail and glimmering green-steel of ironbark waved her hands and rained down a thunderous spell on a demon. Ellana recognized her attire as one a Dalish First would wear.

Despite the distance, Ellana recoiled at the sight of the oozing dark figure of a Shade. Fortunately, the battle was quick and by the time they got there, the Shade was nothing more than a pile of goo on the ground.

The elven woman faced them, watching them one by one until her eyes locked to Ellana’s. Her eyes roamed her pale, almost indistinguishable, vallaslin. With a forced amiability she spoke. “Aneth ara, lethallan. I am glad to meet one of the People. Though I confess, it is odd to find one in such,” she paused, “ _strange_ company.”

“These are strange times, _lethallan._ ” Ellana gestured a simple greeting, a simple tap to the forehead. “Ellana of Clan Lavellan in the Free Marches.”

The woman returned the gesture in kind. “Indeed. My name is Mihris,” her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “What brought you out here, Ellana of Clan Lavellan? You came a long way.”

Mihris pointedly didn’t mention her clan, but Ellana let it slide. Dalish are suspicious by nature, in fact it was one of the primary reasons for their survival. Ellana slid her attention to Solas hoping he’d share their intent but found he remained passive, eyeing the distant vista like they held more interest. Great. _This was his godsdamn scheme, damn it._

It would be a terrible idea to let Cassandra speak for them, so Ellana cleared her throat, “we, umm heard of an old elven artifact around the area and our investigation led us to this place.”

The air around them seems to tighten. Mihris straightened. “By **‘us’** you mean your clan?”

Ellana squirmed atop her horse. Although she had the higher ground, Mihris stood with posture and authority as befit a First and Ellana shrunk on instinct. “W-We believe that whatever artifacts lay within could aid us with the Rifts. Surely, survival precedes all other concerns?”

Mihris raised a brow, well aware of Ellana’s deflection. Ellana could see her tighten her hold on her staff. The tense silence spiked around them. Even the horses neighed in distress.

But then Mihris chuckled and Ellana let out a relieved and slightly choked laugh.

She retracted her staff to her back and Mihris swept her hands towards the ruined entrance. “I see. Very well, _lethallan._ Perhaps we can aid one another, instead. I am alone and I may require assistance once we enter the premises. Old elven entrapments may still be at work and I might find myself overwhelmed.”

“Is this wise?” Cassandra interjected, eyeing Mihris like she was the demon she had just extinguished. Despite her position as First, to Cassandra, Mihris was still an apostate.

“We have a duty to preserve whatever is left of our culture,” Mihris sais calmly, but Ellana could see a hint of hostility glinting in her eyes as she roved the emblem emblazoned on Cassandra’s chest plate. All Dalish elves were taught to be wary of humans, the more so when encountering one affiliated with the Chantry.

Better not exclaim that the humans hailed her as their Herald of Andraste and she is looking at the members of the Second Inquisition.

Ellana dismounted and face her companions. “She is right. As Dalish, I am obligated. But none of you are.”

“Hera –” Cassandra protested.

Solas cut her off, obviously aware of the underlying tension. “We will accompany you, Ellana,” pointedly shedding her off her human title. He looked at the Seeker and then eyeing the others meaningfully, before nodding to Ellana. “There is safety in numbers.”

Cassandra scowled. Varric and Adrian shared a look and nodded. Lead the way, it said. The rest of them slid off their mounts. Varric opted to stay behind and guard their mounts, or in his words, to have someone, “run off screaming should anything gruesome happen to them.”

Ellana followed Mihris and were closely trailed by Solas while Cassandra and Adrian followed loosely behind. The two mages coordinated without speaking as they cleared the path of rubble blocking the entrance. As they entered, Ellana noticed an odd looking torch protruded at the sides. Curious, she made her way to it. Her Marked hand prickled under heavy gloves then iridescent blue fire came to life.

“Veilfire.”

She was surprised to see Solas was just a foot away from her as she turned from the sound of his voice. He was so damnably quiet. He took the torch off its handle and Ellana gasped as it emitted a wave of heat.

“It’s warm!”

“It’s still a flame, or a memory of it,” Mihris approached them, eyeing Solas warily. “I am surprised a flat-ear knows of it.”

“The Dalish do not hold all the mysteries of Elvhenan,” he replied dismissively, his back to Mihris. But in the light of the magical flames, Ellana could see him clearly. She was shocked to see disgust mar his face. Solas had always retained an air of calmness and the only time she saw him snarl was during a battle.

Granted, being called flat-ear was grating. But Solas was not just angry. He was livid.

Mihris jutted her chin up, goading, June’s vallaslin framed her glowing grey eyes. “What would a _seth’lin_ know of Elvenan? Hmm? Planting a tree in the middle of a cistern does not make one Elven.”

Solas faced her, his voice deadly cool, “neither does frolicking in the woods, playing up false rituals like a pretentious and deluded child.”

Ellana flinched and Mihris turned her hawk-like gaze to her, “your choice of ‘companions’ speaks poorly of you, lethallan.” She spat the camaraderie like a curse.

Mihris lit her own torch and stalked past them and down to the darker corridors. Ellana turned to Solas as he gripped the torch more tightly than necessary. The snarl was gone, but the dagger-sharp ire lingered around him.

Ellana swallowed. “I’m sorry, Solas. The Dalish can be a bit harsh to outsiders.”

“You should not apologize. You committed no fault.” He said curtly. “The Dalish are arrogant and short-sighted. Such display is to be expected.”

Ellana flushed. She didn’t want to admit it just yet, but his words stung her as well. Perhaps, in his anger, he forgot she is Dalish too.

_Well, sort of._

Solas took the fire and retraced the path Mihris took. Ellana motioned for their human companions to follow them as they took a short trip down. The air was heavy with tension and dust. Cassandra and Solas had their attention trained on Mihris, although for entirely different reasons, while Adrian stuck close to her side. He murmured, “Maker, this place gives me the creeps.”

She hummed disinterestedly, mouth cupped with her hands as to prevent from coughing. They walked on, green light leading them. The darkened corridor just stretched on. The closed space started to feel stifling and Ellana couldn’t stand the oppressive silence a moment longer. She doubled her step and was side to side with the mysterious First.

“So, umm Mihris. I take it your Clan sent you here to investigate old elven artifacts?”

Mihris just raised a brow.

Ellana swallowed, “isn’t it dangerous to send for you…you know, alone?”

It could have been the eerie bluish tint of the Veilfire, but Ellana could swear she looked haunted. Mihris lips shook slightly, “…It is part of my duties…as First.”

“ _Ma harel, da’len._ ”

Solas voice was a point above a whisper, but to see Mihris react, it’s as if his words caused an avalanche. He passed them by and her eyes flitted wildly and she looked almost deranged as her gaze locked with his.

Ellana saw her jaws tried to work, but nothing came from her parted lips, only a ghastly whimper. Heart pumping Ellana turned to him. “…Solas?”

His eyes looked like malignant crescents as the bluish torch lit him from beneath. It caged Mihris for a brief second before looking at Ellana. She half-expected to see anger or resentment, but instead he gave her a half-smile, face wraith-like from the fires.

“I can sense the artifact is nearby. Follow me.”

Ellana watched his retreating back. Shocked and off kiltered. _What?_ She blinked a few times before turning to Mihris. She was breathing heavily. _What is going on?_

Ellana offered a hand to help her up, but she ignored it as she pushed her back straight and started walking shakily. Ellana chanced a glance at Cassandra and Adrian, but neither of them seems to acknowledge or know what has happened.

_What did happen?_

At last they reached an expansive hall. Three short steps down lay a globe-like statuette made of dark metal above a golden pedestal. Cubic designs plastered on one side of its surface. The material was impossible to distinguish. Was it made of onyx, perhaps obsidian? Solas lighted the empty sconce and after a while the entire room was lit by blue flame.

Cassandra and Adrian roamed along the sides, eyeing for something worthwhile left forgotten.

Solas took a step towards the spherical sculpture. Ellana came at his side. “Is this the artifact?”

“Yes.” His palms glided smoothly on top of it. At a closer distance, Ellana could see it polished to shine, not even one tarnish or speck of dust despite being exposed under a decrepit ruin for…well, maybe since Ancient.

She watched as Solas closed his eyes and mumbled inaudibly. The sphere shone green. The small energy was picked up by the Mark and it hummed in kind. Unlike most of her experience when magical energy was cast, it didn’t feel like pins and needles. Instead, it was as if she dunked her hand in cool waters. It was refreshing. Cathartic.

“There,” Solas said. “That should help ward off demons.”

“Well, that’s nifty, I would say,” Ellana hovered her Marked hand above the piece. There is… something. She couldn’t really explain it but it’s as if… It’s as if they recognize one another. She withdrew her hand and shuddered.

_Creepy magic._

She turned to Solas, “so, how does this work exactly?”

“This is Eolasatha’elgar. Its basic function is to take in the properties of the Veil and break it into its spectral components. It is one of many, I presume, as the Veil is an encompassing construct, and one measly artifact could hardly determine with reasonable accuracy its many variables. If we are able to find many of its kind however, we may be able to surmise a much accurate result.”

Ellana blinked. _Spectral, what?_

He barely glanced at her when he spoke. Solas was still assessing the artifact as he took his journal out and began writing short notes.

Ellana scratched her head. “So, how does this help us exactly? I mean, beyond making this room demon-free.”

“Hmm?” He looked up. “Ah. Well, in simpler terms, if I gather enough data, I may be able to predict areas that are susceptible to Rifts. We need not rely on word-of-mouth alone and address the problem preemptively.”

That, she understood. She sighed as her eyes wandered around the space. The vaulted stone room was not really much to look at. It was stripped to bare blocks. Dust and cobwebs had taken over. Ellana could even see the darker indentation of their footsteps amidst the greyish particles. Perhaps, in its heyday…

“Hey, Solas, you may want to take a look at this.” Adrian piped up. They both turned. Adrian was pointing to a glowing script at the wall. Cassandra took a torch near it and it shone. Even Mihris watched them at a distance. Solas moved closer and traced the markings on a piece of ripped parchment.

“What is it?” Cassandra inquired.

“It is an Elvhen Rune-Marking. They can be inscribed using lyrium similar to most enchantments. I shall research its effects further once we return to Haven.”

Cassandra seemed satisfied with that. As she turned she hissed, “what are you doing?”

Ellana followed her gaze and saw Mihris rifling through some rubble. She swirled in surprised that quickly turned to fury. “This is the legacy of my ancestors. I have every right to it!”

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and she began to stalk forward.

“Cassandra!” Ellana gripped her arm. The Seeker looked at her fiercely. Whether from touching her or calling her by her first name, Ellana isn’t sure. But it stopped her, that’s what matters. Cassandra grunted in annoyance. “Are we done here?”

“Yes,” Solas replied, tucking his journal to his pack.

Adrian was beside him, hand casually propped at his pommel as he eyed the lone Dalish apostate.

Ellana stood there. She watched as suspicion colored her companions faces. Something unpleasant dropped to the pit of her stomach.

She walked towards Mihris, not caring about what they would think or say. Ellana always felt like an impostor whenever she spoke Elven, but for Mihris’ sake she continued to address her in them. _“Lethallan.”_

Hidden by the shadow, Mihris gave a solemn nod. Ellana could see something glint beneath her fingers, but Mihris quickly slip it out of her sight. Let her have it.

 _“Dareth shiral,_ Mihris.”

Her eyes fluttered nervously.

Ellana gave a short, amiable pat on her shoulders.

She stiffened at first but soon enough, Mihris heaved a breath. _“…Dareth shiral.”_

Ellana began to walk towards the others as they waited for her at the arched stairways.

_“Falon.”_

She turned. Mihris threw something at her.

Ellana clapped and caught it in both hands. It was a small carving made of stone. She tilted it to the light. It was a figure of Fen’Harel, the size of half her palm. It was a common talisman, made with the intention to ward off bad luck or ill-omens. The stone wolf was hunched with its tail curled around his hind legs. All six eyes were closed as if he was asleep. There were small incantations etched all over it, meaningless rhymes said to misdirect the cunning wolf. There were fresh scratch marks around its surface and dark spots like it was burned before.

"I hope it will serve you better than it did me." Even at the dimness of the room, Ellana could see the tear tracks on her face.

She swallowed, “ _ma serannas._ ”

“Pray. Pray that the Dread Wolf will never catch your scent, Ellana of Lavellan,” Mihris regarded her severely. “Pray, _lethallan._ Pray.”

Ellana’s heart thundered in her chest and she gave a furtive nod. She clutched the talisman close to her as she turned back.

Right then, Ellana saw Solas standing in the archway.

There was something in his gaze… But before she could put words to it, he turned abruptly and ascended the steps.

His footsteps echoed in beat with the irrational fear in her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> `A/N September 2019: Beware the comment section for spoilers!`
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Ba'lin - shortened for uncle  
> 2\. Aneth ara - informal greeting  
> 3\. Lethallan - blood sister  
> 4\. Seth'lin - thin blood; insult to city or non-Dalish elves  
> 5\. Dareth shiral - safe journeys  
> 6\. Falon - friend
> 
> THANKS TO FENXSHIRAL!


	11. 'Neath Bond and Blade II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The color of corruption is red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Graphic Violence
> 
> Super thank you again to Hezjena! Changed some sentences with her suggestion to make it more readable! <3

The East Road just goes on. And on and on. Ellana’s thighs were getting sore from riding all day.

The sun was half way on the mountains when they left the Elven ruins and Cassandra insisted they push on to the little hamlet by the Crossroads, near the Inquisition's outskirts camp. Deep hued skies marked the coming of dusk.

The King’s Highway was nothing more than unremarkable paved dirt. There were occasional merchant caravans and travellers that colored their journey, most heading further west and stopping by the Inquisition encampments for a temporary reprieve. Varric chatted the last they met, huddled with a few scouts along small farms by the road, feeling the area, as he would say.

“I spy…”

“Hush, dwarf. We don’t want outlaws swooping down on us just because you can’t keep your mouth shut.” Cassandra admonished.

“Come now, Seeker. Your scowling had them all fleeing for their lives,” Varric grinned. “Besides I was feeling plush and dandy in Kirkwall until you brought me here to talk, so talk I will.”

“I always wondered why a famous author was called for a Conclave,” Adrian chimed at the back. “I presumed it was more than signing autographs?”

Cassandra looked back at them from her position in their fronts. “Varric was called in by the Divine to recount the events that sparked the Mage-Templar War.”

“Abducted is more like it,” Varric muttered.

Adrian trotted his horse forward that he leveled with Varric’s pony, “but Seeker, the Viscountess was said to be the catalyst of said event, why not ask for her instead?”

“The Viscountess…Hawke was gone when we arrived.”

Varric was sulking, “probably because she’s a mage and there were rumors of an Exalted March.”

“The Divine would never… It was a malicious rumor. Nothing more.”

“Like the Chantry never –”

“Quiet!” Solas hissed low.

All eyes turned to him. He jutted his chin forward.

Ellana saw a line of smoke broke the serene landscape. It was only a couple of paces down the road, its source hidden by a timely curve and thick lines of trees.

Cassandra motioned for them to dismount their horses and she led them to discreet thickets and tied their mounts up to shaded trees. The afternoon shadows provided for perfect cover. They took their armaments with them.

“Agent Belette warned us of bandit presence along the area,” Cassandra explained. “Our soldiers cleared them out before but it seems our forces couldn’t keep them at bay for long. The situation must be dire than it seems.”

“If they’re preparing for an ambush, shouldn’t they hide their smoke?” Varric retorted.

They snuck their way towards the smoke. Fortunately, they had the height advantage and the trees provide them with enough cover. Varric pulled out his spyglass, shading its reflective end with his hand to avoid the western sunset light from glinting and revealing their positions.

“I spy with my little eye…” Cassandra grunted in annoyance, Varric chuckled before continuing, “…five…no, no, seven, well-armed men. That’s four footmen, two archers and one massive guy with a maul.” He folded the glass back and eyed the Seeker. “Are you sure these are bandits? ‘Cause it sure as shit don’t look like an ordinary one.”

The Seeker scowled, “regardless, we must get ready. We can’t let them take control of the main road.”

“What’s the plan,” Adrian asked.

She motioned for them to lean in closer.

“Varric, flank them from the opposite ridge. Wait for our signal,” Cassandra tapped the war horn by her hip. All of them had one, Ellana noted. They should blow them if they ever separate and require immediate assistance. “Then, take out the archers as fast as you can. While they panic, Trevelyan and I will charge at the men. Solas, keep your head down. We have the element of surprise at our side, I expect it would be enough. If all goes well, then we won’t require magic. If not, focus on defense barriers and rejuvenating spells. I don’t want you to waste your mana unless absolutely necessary.”

Cassandra eyed them all and they nodded in kind. Ellana watched as Varric silently disappeared through the thicket and Adrian left for their horses. The Seeker and Adrian will charge in on horseback.

“What about me?” Ellana asked.

Cassandra eyed her and walks to Solas. “The Herald’s safety is your top priority. Keep her close to you. If we are compromised, retreat. Take the horses, follow the road and keep heading west. The Crossroads will be just up ahead.”

“Seeker…!” Ellana tried to object, but Solas cut her off. “Understood.”

Ellana turned to him in alarm, but Solas looks straight at her and her argument died down. She held onto her crossbow tighter. She still couldn’t shoot straight. Ellana wondered how much help she can be. She never had to kill anything or anyone before.

_Perhaps, it’s for the best…_

Cassandra followed after Adrian while she and Solas snuck in closer. He was very quiet in his steps, not unlike Adahlon, and for a brief moment she wonders if he was like Da as well, another cast out, a pariah. Maybe he was a mage from a clan that had too much to entice a Templar investigation. Perhaps, it was abandonment that made him abhor the Dalish in general.

Ellana stepped on a twig and Solas stopped and eyed her reproachfully.

 _Sorry_ , she mouthed.

He raised a brow and tapped at his ankles, silently motioning her to watch him and follow precisely on his footsteps. Ellana did just that and they were silent as they managed to hide behind a large boulder. They were stationed on an elevated flat, high enough that climbing would take a serious effort and close enough that the bandits’ voices drifted upwards for them to hear.

“Ah, all this waitin’ around is killin’ me.”

“Has Dony been back yet?”

“That weasel didn’t rat us out, did he?”

Solas furrowed his brow. Ellana watched as he angled himself as he espied the men below. He was eyeing the nearby trees as well. Suspicious and alert. She wondered if he saw Varric on the other side.

Down below, the bandits strolled lazily around the dismantled carriage. It had been used as a massive kindling. The smell of roasted meat wafted in the air. There were no visible horses and dead bodies lying around. One bandit was sorting through the merchandise left behind. Ellana observed him pocket things when the others weren’t looking. Varric was right though, they don’t look like ordinary bandits. For one, their metals gleamed and they don’t look half-starved.

Solas retreated fully to their cover and turned to her. His eyes drifted to the crossbow she balled on her hands. “Stay behind me, Ellana. You will not engage until I say so,” he whispered.

The bandits were loudly shuffling around.

Ellana looked back and in the distance she saw a cloud of dust. Then a horn sounded, low and strong, the kind of sound that can rankle your guts. Ellana spied the bandits behind Solas shoulder. She heard a low whistling sound then one of the archers fell even before he could take an arrow from his quiver. His companions panicked, unsheathing their blades and looking frightful as they eyed the woods. Right then, Cassandra and Adrian were on sight, charging in.

“The riders, the riders!” One of the bandits screamed before Cassandra looped off his head with a quick swing. They scattered as the Seeker and the Templar knight ran through them in succession. Varric had taken out the last archer and Adrian trampled one man with his horse.

But the largest bandit unseated Adrian with a quick side-step and one powerful blow of his maul directly to the horse’s chest. The poor beast gave a pained whine as it drop violently on its knees before shuddering down. Dead. Adrian managed to throw himself before its weight crushes him and he rolled on the ground, his sword clattering nearby while his shield was thrown far away. He stood up deftly and on time as the maul smashed the dirt where his head laid a second ago. The two other footmen charged towards his flank, seeing as he was the most vulnerable. Cassandra was still too far away, she wouldn’t be able to get there on time. The wind shifted and the smoke from the burning carriage changed, the _thwang_ of crossbow bolts stopped. _Varric couldn’t see!_

Ellana panicked. She jumped up and screamed behind her cover, “Adrian! Behind you!”

She heard Solas curse as he dragged her by the edge of her armor and pushed her behind him, one hand blocking her from jumping out while his staff grew bright.

Right then, Adrian turned, missing another blow from the maul and a lunge from the other bandit by a hair's breadth.

Blue light shimmered on his skin as the last one managed to stab at his shoulder. The metal bounced harmlessly. Solas’ barrier saved the day.

Solas whirled behind him and commanded, pointing at their cover, “stay here,” before he re-positioned himself with an open view, haranguing the remaining bandits with bolts of energy.

Behind her cover, Ellana saw Cassandra picked a long burning wood off the ground and charged her horse forward. It crashed against the giant man’s undefended back. Ellana could hear the crack and splinter of bones and wood. With a gracefully savage riposte, Adrian downed another and Cassandra took the last one out with a deadly axe-throw.

The Seeker’s horse was trotting in circles. Adrian dusted himself and Ellana saw Varric slide down an earthen path. Ellana breathed.

_It’s over._

She moved forward, but the sound of crushing leaves from behind made her swivel.

She saw two daggers glimmering like fangs as it descended at her. Ellana didn’t even have the time to cry out as she raised her crossbow above her head in defense. Her arm protested as they felt the impact. Ellana accidentally pressed the trigger and the bolt shot off to nowhere. She felt, more than saw, herself thrown down by the man’s weight. She couldn’t see her assailant in the dim forest canopy.

“ELLANA!” She heard Solas scream.

One of the daggers stabbed deeply on the crossbow’s body while the other was providentially blocked, blade shining menacingly close to her jugular. He pushed her down mercilessly, the pointed tips starting to dig on her gorget.

A boulder smacked her attacker directly and he flew off her, yowling in pain.

She stood up, Solas was running towards her.

“Solas!”

Horror gripped her as she found four more men coming after him, blending out of shadows.

They have reinforcements!

She screamed, pointing behind him. Solas turned and it was as if time stood still.

He twirled his staff, sharp edge pointed up, letting the first one run to him before stepping back and slashing him cleanly from his ribs up to his neck in one clean stroke. The bandit’s leather armor couldn’t stop the blow and blood gushed, sprinkling at the mage and unto the ground. Before the body even dropped, she felt a force constrict to a point as the Veil twisted around Solas to let concentrated energy pass through. Only then did she notice the staff’s crown glowed purple and a bolt of lightning struck, jumping from metal to metal. It disintegrated the first target, but burns and staggered the two others.

Ellana tried to shoot one of them with her crossbow, but found the knife still latched onto its flight groove. Any bolt she’d reload won’t be able to pass through.

_Shit!_

In her anxious haze, she uselessly looked for her crannequin. She remembered leaving it by her knapsack on her saddle. Ellana cursed herself. What kind of idiot would leave something so important behind!

Turning around, she saw the other bandit, the one who attacked her, still wincing from the bruising spell. He drew out his short bow slowly and in obvious pain. But he managed to make it to full-draw. She didn’t need to look where he aimed to know it was directed at Solas’ undefended back.

In the narrow moment of response, Ellana unconsciously dropped her crossbow and unsheathed her ironbark dagger. She felt the enchantment infuse her, it’s now active magic a familiar tingle on her Marked hand.

Her senses cleared. It was as if she was dunked in frozen lake. Her world narrowed down to the threat before her.

She let out an agitated cry.

The bandit startled and released the arrow at her direction. Ellana felt it grazed her neck as she jumped forward and thrust her dagger blindly. It struck to his stomach. Unable to control her momentum, Ellana crashed into him, burying the blade deeper into his abdomen. It felt like pinning a needle on a pincushion.

The man’s face twisted in anger, in shock, in agony. In fear.

They both held onto it and Ellana’s mind blanked. Stubbornness or unadulterated panic petrified her hands to the hilt. They were so close together that she could smell him, smoke, dirt and sweat, tangy like vinegar.

Then their eyes locked. A dirty face, unmarked by age lines. _A kid, he’s just a kid!_

But her contemplation died short.

The young man swung his other hand, his knife an aberrant _swoosh!_ as it careened towards her neck. Ellana reflexively raised her left arm in defense and sharp white pain exploded on her forearm. She yelled in agony as the blade pierced clean of her bracers and through her limb, her blood spilling down to her cheeks.

Ellana clung her other hand to the dagger in some semblance of insensible instinct. He put his weight on his blade that lodged on her arm and twisted at it ferociously, drawing more blood. Her vision darkened as her mind became sensitized by absolute physical anguish. Miraculously, her muscles locked her gouged arm in place. It is the only thing between her and death.

Ellana twisted her own blade in her unconscious and pained fumbling and the boy cried in pain. As soon as she felt his grip loosen, Ellana clumsily wrenched her dagger sideways in an attempt to dislodge it and flee. There was a moment of resistance before she dizzily anchored her weight to it and desperately pushed it sideways. It felt like cutting through a filled waterskin. Warm liquid coated her fingers. Ellana stumbled as her blade met air. The impetus crashed her down on a bed of dried leaves.

Then _**splat!**_

His stomach opened like a lipless mouth, vomiting entrails that squished and danced as they dropped to the forest floor.

Ellana’s gaze locked at the boy’s face.

It was dazed and vacuous as he wheezed his last breath. His hands vainly attempt to salvage his disemboweled organs. There was no anger or hate or fear. Only disbelief.

He fell to his knees before her and began whimpering for his mother, for Andraste and the Maker. His bloodied hands reached out to her in some horrifying last act of supplication. His mouth worked like a broken gear, spilling ichor the color of crushed cochineal and watering the green grass red.

After an eternity, he shuddered and stilled.

Ellana laid there unblinking. She watched and watched until all movement ceased, until she felt her insides turn as cold and dead as him.

_I – I – I…._

She looked down on her hands, willing for the madness to go away. But the evidence anchored her to reality. They were blackened, sticky and shaking. A blade was embedded into her left arm and she was still holding Da’s dagger on her right. She found she can’t even unclench her fingers from it. The lyrium gleamed blue against the rufescent coating. Like the eye of god.

She felt someone touch her and pull her up. She turned her head and found a man’s face staring at her oddly. His brows were furrowed, eyes roving her all over and his lips parted in heavy breaths. There was… emotion there, and for the life of her she couldn’t name it. His face was familiar… She’d seen him before. _Where, where, where…_

_I – I – ki – I kikiki…_

He palmed her cheeks, inspecting. His gaze turned to her neck and grazed his fingers on its side. There was a brief pain, but it was nothing more than a distant anecdote. Then his eyes locked on to the knife still stuck on her arm and exhaled.

_I ki… I – I…I ki –._

“Ellana.” He shook her, once. She blinked. “Ellana? Can you walk?”

She stared at him. A question… she was asked a question.

Thoughts bounced through her mind like ricochet. Words slowly formed like she only realized she was capable of its conception. She worked her lips. Her confession poured out from the hollow of her mouth, frail and fractured.

“I k-k-ki-i-i-i-ki...I…k-k-k…d.”

He eyed the dead boy at her feet. He moved so that her vision is filled with him and not the dead boy at her feet. The dead boy at her feet. The dead boy…

“Ellana,” he pressed. Blue-grey eyes moored her soul. “You are fine. You are alright.”

His voice dribbled slowly into her mind. She looked at him, really look, and noticing him for the first time.

He felt like miles from her and she gripped at his tunic, afraid that he’d drift away. He was here and yet he’s so far. It gave her an urge to shout. A name. Yes, a name. She can call out if she knows the name. She needed to say it out loud, make the words real. Somehow, it was very important. A name, a name…She needed to say it. She needed to hear it from her lips. From the inside out.

Tears spilled from her eyes as she gasped his name, his name, his name…!

“…So – Solas! Solas…!” She would have fallen if he did not catch her by her armpits and practically took the brunt of her weight on him. “Solas! I – I…!

“Shhh, shhh. You are alright, Ellana. You are alright.”

He pried the dagger off of her one-handed and wiped them at his own trousers before sheathing them at her side while his other hand supported her by her waist. He breathed cool magic on his sleeve and wiped her face with it. The chill calmed her enough to enable her to start standing on her own legs.

Solas guided her away from the spot and made her sit on a nearby root, tactfully drawing her attention away from the dead bodies. He sat opposite of her. He gently stretched her Marked limb forward, the hilt of the knife on one side with its tip peeking at the other.

“I am going to use my magic to ease this dagger out, Ellana.”

She nodded absently. Her eyes drifting around.

“Ellana, look at me." He drew her face to his. "Yes, good. You are fine.” Solas patted her cheek and smiled reassuringly.

Red blotches floated across his nose, his cheeks and on his brow. There were even some on his neck. They were like freckles, only too dark. She could feel something numb her arms. Blood flow seemed to stop. She didn’t need the Mark to warn her that he is using a spell. Her eyes drifted down.

“Ellana.”

She looked up to him.

He motioned to his face. “Stay with me.”

She nodded.

She watched as his eyes looked down, flitting to hers from time to time. Satisfied that she wouldn’t spy on his work he focuses his attention on her arm. At the edges of her vision, she could make out his other hand grasping the hilt and in one fluid motion extricate the blade. She imagined she could feel the wind pass through the gaps.

Solas grabbed bandages and poultices from his pack and took her bracers off, carefully. He deftly treated and wrapped the wounds. He applied the same care to her neck as well.

Ellana felt no pain all through it, only numbness.

He took out a rag and dampen it with his cooling magic. He wiped the red from her hands. Only the black delineation along her fingernails remained.

And the smell.

“Solas,” Adrian’s reddish curls popped up at the edge, “Solas, is everything alright, we heard –?”

Ellana turned her face towards him fully and he halted, shocked.

“Everything is fine, Ser Adrian.” Solas replied calmly. “You may reassure the Seeker.”

Adrian blinked and nodded slowly, he left, a ruffle of red-hair disappearing as the Templar’s descent barred him from view.

Solas looked her over and says, “you are all set. Let’s reconvene with the others below.” He took her arms and helped her up before leading the trek down.

Ellana watched as he descended but halfway through, he turned. She still stood where she was, staring at a point just above his head. It didn’t even register to her that he held on to her hand once more and guided her down the ridge. She saw her legs moved mechanically, hear the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath her soles, the fingers under her palm and the breeze on her cheeks.

Adrian was assisting Varric in pulling the bodies towards the fire. Cassandra stood guard. She turned as they approached, “it wouldn’t do to leave these bodies behind. The local wildlife may eat their flesh in desperation. Once they get a taste, they could start hunting people in earnest.”

“There are others where we came,” Solas said. “Their reinforcements took us by surprise.”

Cassandra nodded, a deep frown on her face. Her attention shifted to Ellana. All four focused on her. None of them spoke. Had she the presence of mind it would have made her self-conscious.

But right now, she didn’t really care.

Ellana wandered to the burning carriage. She saw in her periphery as the others collected the remaining bodies. There were burnt remains amidst the flames. Some still had some bubbling flesh while there were others that were reduced to charcoal. She can tell a hand, a portion of a leg and skulls of various sizes. Both adults and children.

The bandits and their victims.

Within the vicinity of the burning wagon, merchandise were split and collected at the sides. It held various paraphernalia. One caught Ellana’s attention. A cittern, its pear-shaped body made of polished redwood and the hooked tip of its neck had an elaborate fleur-de-lis carving. She picked it up and rotated the instrument. At its base, she found an engraving with a fluid script:

_Chante et ramène-moi chez toi._

_Sing, and bring me home to you._

Ellana testily plucked its four metal cords with her thumb. One was snapped though and there was a dull discordant sound as she strummed. It was tuned to an Orlesian taste. The kind Ma preferred. She heard the crunch of gravel, but didn’t bother to turn.

She heard the Seeker sighed before speaking. “It’s not easy to take a life, even if you feel it is deserved.” Cassandra was by her side, a few feet apart. “I have killed many in the name of justice, in preserving good. Still there are times even that rationalization can’t keep the nightmares at bay.”

Ellana remained quiet, fingers on chords. The music plays only in her mind. _Da, da, re, da, da…_

“In time, I have learned to accept the burden.” Cassandra continued calmly. “My faith anchored me and I turn to the Maker to ask Him to forgive me of my sins. Whenever I could, I take the time to light the candles and dedicate them to the people whose blood I have spilt. It does not absolve me, of course, but it eases my conscience in knowing I did all that I could. If I cannot spare them in this life, then I can do something to ensure they have a better eternity at our Maker’s side. It does not matter who they are, we are all His children, after all.”

_…da, da, da…_

Ellana turned towards the flames and watched it once more, Cassandra contemplative on her side. When the three men rejoined with the last bodies, they all laid them to the pyre. The fire crackled. Ellana didn’t turn away, even when the smell was pungent.

_…ba, ba, hum, da, da…_

Cassandra moved towards her and said, “I am giving them prayers. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

Ellana bowed her head low. The Seeker offered her prayer, Canticle of Transfigurations. Oh, Ellana knows the line well, knows them by heart. She must have prayed it innumerable times, with a different woman, singing by her side.

_Ma._

Cassandra gave Ellana a little smile, thinking she has joined her prayers with silent intent. But the truth was, she had no prayer for any of them.

She only hated the iron red smell on her hands.

Footsteps alerted them to another. Varric looked morose as he approached. “I found something, you may not like it one bit.” He handed a bloodied, torn note to the Seeker.

Cassandra growled. “Lyrium smugglers.”

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose, “it seems they were ‘scaring’ people off the road to control their operation. Without the Chantry or Circle, they were making a killing from the desperate Templars and mages alike.”

The Seeker crumpled the paper and threw it to the flames. “Let us get a move on.”

Ellana kept the cittern.

Adrian and Solas fetched their mounts and the group continued their travels with reservation. They reached the little hamlet by nightfall. Torches guided their path.

Ellana could make out packed dirt, flattened and supported with stone blocks to create levels to which wooden houses were erected. Tents were propped all around. Despite not having proper fortification, people flocked the area, eager for any semblance of order or protection.

A few Inquisition guardsmen and night watchers welcomed them.

“We best report to Corporal Vale come morning,” Cassandra said. “For now, let us rest. There is a tent allocated for me last I was here. It is large enough to accommodate the five of us.”

With their mounts led by their agents, the group followed Cassandra to an incline. Orange tents lined the space, Inquisition banners raised and billowing in the wind. Based on the comparable material and size, this must be where the officers stay. The Seeker opened the flap and welcomed them in.

It was spacious and lightly furnished. There two cots by the sides, a table and two chairs. There was a washbasin, centered and further ahead, while layers of carpeted wickerwork protected their feet from the cold ground. The sides where the cots were located had curtained partitions, currently tied to one of the poles for support. Cassandra walked at the space familiarly and began her habits.

Ellana stared at the unoccupied cot blankly.

“You and the Seeker can take them,” Varric unrolled his bedroll near the entrance. “Us boys can snuggle nicely down here.”

Adrian grunted, “keep your hands to yourself, dwarf.”

“Not interested in what you’ve got to offer, Wonderboy,” Varric retorted. “Oh, I know. How about we share stories? Ha-hah! Inquisition sleep-over!”

“Ugh!” Cassandra untied her partitions and the thick canvas blocked her from their sight.

Ellana deposited her pack underneath the propped canvas bed and also untied the curtains, leaving her with a semblance of privacy. Varric could still be heard outside.

“I even brought…” she heard Varric shuffling something, “…a fine specimen of Alvarado’s. So, who’s first…Chuckles?”

“I would rather sleep.”

Ellana took off her bloodied armor and began tugging her boots off. Even without the weight of the leather and riveted steel plates, her body felt heavy. She took a rag out of her pack and slung them by her shoulder. Ellana done it all on her good hand alone.

She parted her curtains as she went to deposit her dirtied brigandine set near the entrance along with the others and proceeded towards the washbasin. Adrian was on his cotton tunic and rough trousers, toweling his face with a wet cloth.

Varric’s request continued, “how about you, Wonderboy?”

Adrian scratched his growing stubble, “Maker, how about we start with cards first, then drink. If I’m going to tell some stories, I’d rather be drunk.”

“Really, now. I don't want to be subjected to another round of your 'singing'."

“Oh, shut up.”

“ _Our sweet Lady needed someone who would warm her feet at niiiight!_ " Varric belted out in an exaggerated timbre, mimicking the last song Adrian had sung when he was drunk. The dwarf was laughing as soon as he had finished.

“Get off,” he threw his rag at Varric, but he dodged it deftly, and it let out a squelch as it hit Solas’ unsuspecting forehead, rudely waking him.

“ _Fenedhis lasa!_ ”

Varric guffawed, rolling and kicking as he goes.

She could distantly hear Adrian spluttering a string of apologies.

“Quiet, all of you!” Cassandra huffed behind her partition.

Ellana continued to wipe her face clean of blood. She even scrubbed the blood off the tips of her fair hair for good measure. She dunked her hands and rubbed them red on the water. The smell of death doesn’t fade away.

Does it truly go away?

It was necessary.

It was necessary...

_...It was necessary._

Da was kneeling in front of her. It was a cloudless sky of bright blue. She recalled the field of wild blossoms. The air was sweet and breezy. It was one of those days marked of hunger and long travels. The dead hare lying limbless on his thigh. The furs where the arrow pierced were stained. Red eyes against white fur. Red blood against white flowers.

_I am so sorry, da’assan._

Ellana was crying. Da knew red frightened her.

The red reminded her of dark nights filled with spots of fire like many eyes, burning closer and closer and closer, carried by mad men with red faces screaming for more blood. Everything burned, burned, burned…

And there was Ma and the red stain on her white lace. The red that trickled down on her milky thighs. The red that smell like iron. It tried to reach her.

And the blade…the blade…the blade…

Da wiped her cheeks then. She cried when Da skinned the poor white hare, cooked it and even as she ate it. It was the only way to survive. What other course could she take?

Ellana blinked and she was back within the Inquisition tent. Inside was red from the lone candlelight and it made their skin look like glowing flames. Varric was still red with laughter, Adrian in embarrassment and Solas in irritation as he wiped his forehead.

She headed to her designated space for the night.

Varric stopped her short with an outstretched hand clinging to an open bottle. “How about you, Glowy?”

Although he is smiling, there was emotion swirling in his eyes. Ellana looked around her. All of them stopped as they waited for her answer.

She couldn't speak.

“Would you like to play some cards? Maybe listen to a story or two?” Varric nudged gently.

_A story._

She knew a story.

Da had told her one, the night before he left her to the clan.

They sat together like this, too. His blue eyes played the part of a loving father, lulling his child to sleep with a soft voice and a bedtime story. She didn't know then that it will be their last.

She closed her eyes and she saw him sitting by the edge of the bed they rented for the night. She had found it strange then, Da usually never have the money to buy them dinner or a room to stay in. But she was only a child and she trusted implicitly.

He had told her this particular story many times just as grandfather once shared with him. The words were etched in her mind. She can hear its echoes, flowing clearly as if Da was here…

_“...In the time of ancient days, the world was green and wonderful. Then Elgar’nan, Father of All, watched the wonders of creation. Bright was he and his brilliance scorched the lands. Mythal urged him, ‘douse thy shine for many would soon turn to dust amidst your glory.’_

_Chastened, the Great Father shied away from all creations and in his absence, snow stalked the world, burying the animals in their caves and dens. All of the creatures feared for their lives._

_‘One of us must travel to the Beyond and speak with Elgar’nan,’ said the wise Owl, whose twice-blessed wings favored both by the Great Huntress and the Guide. We must ask the Father to return once more so that the world can become warm again._

_‘But who amongst us should go?’ asked Turtle, whose sturdy back was gifted by June. ‘I am sure that I would get to the Beyond someday, but we need to act with great haste before we all freeze to death.’_

_‘No,’ said Owl. ‘You should not go. I would take the challenge myself, but my vision is only good during the night. I would lose my way in the radiance of the Beyond. We need someone clever and smart.’_

_Up stepped Fennec, cousin to the guileful Wolf, ‘I will go. I am fast of foot, and I am sure that once I get to the Beyond, I can devise a way to make Elgar’nan help us.’_

_Wise Owl shook her head. ‘You are swift and smart, Fennec, but you are too clever by half. Elgar’nan will not fall for your tricks and snares. Someone else must go.’_

_It was then that the twin ravens fanned their feathers. They were the most beautiful of all the birds; they have brilliant feathers of every color. One was Vindhru whose voice was as sweet as milk and honey. The other was called Rogathe, known for the strength of his claws and his bravery. They were egg-brothers and inseparable since their birth._

_It was Rogathe who spoke to the council of animals; ‘we will go and ask Elgar’nan to help us.’_

_It was a long and difficult journey: three days up and up into the sky, above the trees and clouds, beyond the sun and the moon and the stars. Strong winds buffeted them and tossed them end over end. There was no firm place to land and rest. Still the twins flew and flew until, exhausted by the journey, reached the Beyond._

_When they regained their breath, Rogathe spoke courageously, ‘Elgar’nan, help us!’ But the Father was busy thinking of the moon that shone in the mirror of his brilliance._

_‘Elgar’nan, please hear us!’ But the Father was busy thinking of the stars that flit like gems in the sky._

_‘Elgar’nan, All-father, help us!’ But the Father was busy thinking of his once light, shining gloriously._

_Seeing his brother unable to take the Father’s attention, Vindhru cleared his throat and sang his most beautiful song. Elgar’nan stopped thinking and listened. Then, curious about what might be making this lovely sound, the Father came looking for the maker._

_‘I remember you,’ said Elgar’nan, ‘What a glorious creature you are, with your feathers of many colors and your voice so sweet. That’s an enchanting song you’ve sung.’_

_‘I sang it just for you,’ said Vindhru truthfully._

_‘Such beautiful song deserves a boon,’ the All-Father intoned._

_‘There is only one thing I wish for,’ said Vindhru. ‘Winter covers our world with ice and snow. All of the creatures are freezing. The crops that the All-mother tended for us cannot push through the icy earth. If winter continues, we will all die. Please, we ask that you return once more and shine in your full glory.’_

_Elgar’nan looked down upon the world and saw that everything the raven had said was true. ‘Still, Mythal had forbade me to come back. The snow and ice are dangers, but so shall I be if I return to your world without respite.’_

_The ravens bowed their heads, ‘then we will fly back to the world and tell all of the plants and creatures to prepare to die.’_

_‘Wait, little beauties,’ said Elgar’nan. ‘If I cannot return, I shall ask one of my children to provide for your needs.’ Saying this, Elgar’nan bellowed in his ringing voice. Ghilan’nain and Sylaise answered his call. ‘Father, what service do you require from us?’_

_‘My daughters, think of a way to grant comfort to the world,’ Elgar’nan commanded. Sylaise, taking her Father’s hand to her palm, grew the warmest of light, small and bright like the sun. Ghilan’nain broke a piece of her horn and the fire latched onto it. They presented it once more to the All-father. Elgar’nan handed them to the ravens. ‘Here, take this Fire and fly back to the world as fast as you can. It will melt the snow and allow the crops to grow and the creatures to live.’_

_The ravens thanked the Creators. Rogathe grasped the burning stick first and they flew back to the world. Whenever his brother tires, Vindhru would hold on to stick and back again and so it went. On the first day they flew near the Sun, and all their tail feathers caught on fire. By the time they reached the Moon, all of their beautiful feathers were covered in black soot from the smoke. When they plummet into the Sky, the smoke mixed with the clouds, stinging their eyes and choking their throats. They coughed and hacked, but the smoke smothered their voice._

_When the ravens finally landed back on the world, their lovely feathers were as black as coal and as dark as night. When Vindhru opened its mouth to summon the creatures, instead of the wonderful singing voice, the only sound was a rasping, **krakaw**._

_Every creature shouted for joy as Fire began to melt ice and snow. A great celebration covered the world with singing and dancing. All of the animals gave great thanks that their lives had been saved. Winter ebbed, living on the mountain tops, and with Elgar’nan’s promise to the All-mother, he shall return only for a season. Everyone was very happy._

_Everyone except the ravens. They walked from the celebration to be in their misery. Rogathe cowered in fear as it tried to wash the blackness that stuck on his fine coat._

_‘Krakaw! Krakaw! Look at us!’ Rogathe cried. ‘We used to be beautiful with shining feathers of every color. Now, we’re burned and stained with soot. Try as we might, we cannot remove this smoke and tar.’_

_But Vindrhu wept the hardest, ‘And…krakaw! Listen to me! I used to sing the loveliest songs. Now I squawk and make an ugly noise. Who shall again listen as I sing truth and beauty to the world?’_

_A soft breeze ruffled their black feathers. When they looked up, they saw Dirthamen smiling and walking towards them._

_‘You’re not celebrating with the others, brother ravens. Why don’t you join in the dancing?’_

_‘Who would dance with us now?’ Asked Rogathe. ‘My lovely feathers are covered in pitch.’_

_‘Then why don’t you beat the drums and sing? Said Dirthamen to Vindhru.’_

_‘No one will want to listen to my voice now. Every sound that I make is like cracking rocks and tearing wood.’ A tear formed in Vindhru’s eye. Dirthamen reached out and gently brushed it away._

_‘Do not be sad, ravens,’ Dirthamen said. ‘Though you do not understand, you were blessed. From this day forward every plant and creature will honor you for your many great sacrifices. The People will not hunt you, for your flesh taste of smoke. They will not be tempted by your black feathers and hoarse voice, so you will remain uncaged and free.’_

_Then Dirthamen pointed to the ravens’ black feathers. ‘And those who look closely will see your colored feathers. The brother ravens blinked their eyes and looked at their dull, black feathers. One by one, they became shiny. Inside each feather there glimmered all of the colors of the rainbow. This will be a sign to the creatures and people of this world, reminding all who look on you of your service and the sacrifice that you made. Rogathe and Vindhru, you have saved them all.’_

_And so it was, and so shall it ever be."_

That morning, Ellana woke up with a stranger sitting by the edge of the bed where Da always sat. She would later know him to be Adahlon. But to her younger self, she only saw a strange elf in hooded green armor. Strange green lines marred his face, so different from Da’s markless ones.

It's as if in one night, everything Ellana had vanished from the world.

“Glowy?”

She opened her eyes once more. Varric was standing before her. A look of worry on his face. She looked at his hand hovering above hers in concern, casting her pale ones in the shadows. Even still, she can see the blood marking the rim of her nails, tracing the whorling prints underside of her fingers. The dark, crimson like etchings marked her like the darkened barbs of raven feathers.

_...And so shall it ever be._

She tried to speak. _I'm okay,_ but her lips shook. Varric tried to reach for her, but then her knees weakened.

Ellana buckled down and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N September 2019: beware the comments section fr spoilers   
> 2\. The song Varric sings is from canon codex Andraste's Mabari and in reference to what happened at Chapter 8: A Game of Wicked Grace[return to text]  
> 3\. For more context and resource for the story of the Twin Ravens, refer [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612495/chapters/48942221#workskin) also, i've made changes on one of the characters. 'Coyote' was instead called 'Fennec'. Super thanks again to Hez for this wonderful immersive suggestion!


	12. 'Neath Bond and Blade III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of respite and Solas realizes there is more to Ellana than what she seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Oct 2019: Older readers, kindly skip to chapter 13. This is an old chapter I forgot to repost when I adjusted some of the earlier chapters XD My bad.
> 
> Also, to my beta-reader, Hez! I LOVE YOU!!!! <3

The night stretched longer than she could bear.

The silence throbbed inside her head. Traffic of thoughts flowed and ebbed, filling her mind with an expanding kind of emptiness like waves without a shoreline. Ellana lay tensed on the cot anticipating some ill-fate that she could not quite make sense of nor rationalize.

 _A feeling, nothing more._ Her mantra.

It was as useful as rotten wood against a gale.

The boy’s – _no_ , the _bandit’s –_ face was as clear as muddied waters in her mind’s eye. A small mercy. The Fade has been cruel to her as of late and she knew it waited to prey to her once more. Forgetfulness became a bulwark against the terror of her own memory. The wound to her arm had throbbed in the middle of the night, pulsing in time with Varric’s snoring. Tired as she is, she still felt relieved that sleep evaded her. The pain helped her keep her uneasy vigil, an anchor amidst the sea of her troubled thoughts.

The flapping of the tent walls and the impenetrable darkness of space was starting to suffocate her.

Ellana pushed herself up, her injuries prickled at the effort. She flexed her left hand on instinct and soft green glow lit the partitioned space. There was dried blood on the bandage cloth. Illogically, she somehow expected her blood to look green or something iridescent.

_So, even a wound on a magical limb still looks normal._

She got up and wiped the sleep off with her sleeve. Ellana grabbed her cloak, guided by the faint light of the Mark. She tip-toed past the mass limbs of her male companions on the entrance floor as she exited their tent.

The sky was still dark, but a greyish gradient along the horizon line promised the coming of dawn. She saw a group of Inquisition agents huddled near a bonfire, talking amongst themselves. As she passed them, familiar tan leathers blocked her path. “Where’s m’ale, knife ear?

Ellana tensed, her ears flushed. _These people don’t know yet who she is._

She intended to simply ignore the slur and the drunkard. She side-stepped, hoping he’ll simply pass.

But the drunk growled – no, more like gurgled – and he swayed slightly as he attempted to yank her arms. Before he could reach her another got a hold on him and pressed a bottle to his hand.

“Here, knock yourself out,” Ellana heard the other man said. She looked up and noticed the familiar steel plate and orange wrap-arounds that signaled his association with the Inquisition infantry. The inebriated man grabbed the offering and waddled off all the while mumbling, “damn useless rabbit.”

The soldier turned to her, grinning, “are you alright, luv?”

Ellana didn’t appreciate his roaming eyes although he did seem friendly enough. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She tightened her cloak and started to move away, but the soldier playfully stepped forward, eager to stay on her vision.

One of his companions laughed, a woman. “Knock it off, Raleigh. This one isn’t interested.”

Raleigh took to his friends teasing with a smirk, but it was Ellana he addressed. His palms rose up, “Nothin’ untowards, luv. But we do have warm fire over there and me and me mates don’t dawdle with back talks. There’s more where he comes from.” Thumbs pointing to where the drunk had disappeared.

Ellana followed the tilt of his head and eyed the boiling kettle by the fire. Circling around it were several Inquisition forces of obvious varied backgrounds: an older human woman, a young elf, a bulky middle-aged man with a trace of Rivaini descent and Raleigh the Fereldan. It’s been a long night and the cold morning was not very comforting, anything to warm her down, whether a beverage or company, is sorely welcomed. “Perhaps, if you offer me a cup of tea?”

Raleigh’s smile widened. He motioned for an empty seat by the log and Ellana swept her cloak neatly before sitting down. The young soldier filled a cup and handed it to her. The warmth and steam was a relief and Ellana graciously accepted it with a nod and a smile. Raleigh sat a foot away beside her.

“Name’s Raleigh. That nasty woman over there is Ailis.” The said woman threw a wooden mug at him that he dodged, laughing, “That elven lad is Noland. And the last one over there is Philander, but we just call him Phil the Pillager.” At her confused look Raleigh explained. “When this fella first came here, half the townsfolk thought he was a bandit. He was wearing a set of trash leather and carrying wood axe dripping in blood.”

Ailis scratches the elven boy’s fair hair, much to his protestation, “farm-boy here almost shot him with his arrow.”

Phil scowled at the near dark, “that wasn’t funny.”

“Not to you maybe,” Ailis grinned.

The three laughed at the memory. Their camaraderie made Ellana smile.

“I grew up with tales of Chasinds, barbarians from the South.” Noland explained. “I thought he was one.”

“We are leagues away from Korcari, boy.” Ailis leaned forward, the fire casting her already fiery hair brighter. She had the same orange wrap-around as Raleigh’s, but had foregone the steel plate and was instead wearing a hauberk. She tilted her chin to Ellana, “so, girl. What’s your name?”

“It’s Ellana.” She looked them all-over. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Ellana,” Raleigh resounded. “A pretty name. It suits you.”

Ellana laughed at the collective snort.

Ailis rolled her eyes, “Oh, please. Like that’s what you said to Maura at the Footing. And the woman’s just been recently widowed.”

“All the more reason.”

Noland and Phil shook their heads. “No shame at all. Keep your wits with this one.” Phil motioned to Ellana. She smiled politely in turn.

Noland cut in, “how did you join the Inquisition?”

All heads turned to her. Ellana sipped her cup, playing for time. “I – I was recruited…in Haven...” _Which isn’t technically a lie…_

He stopped playing with the string of his bow, his body tensed with excitement. “You’ve seen the Herald, yea? What does she look like?”

An excited buzz filled the group. The Breach has just been stabilized, stories of it must have trickled down to the footmen. Still, most of their recruits came from the nearby settlements, mostly Fereldans. Only those who joined in Haven had recognized her and it may still be a day or more until they arrive.

“Heard she was once a mercenary,” said Phil.

Ailis scoffed, “don’t be an idiot. She is a fierce and honorable warrior molded in the image of Andraste.”

Ellana couldn’t help but flinch at that. _How disappointed would she be if she knew it was only little old me._

“She closes the Rifts, Ailis. She’s a mage, definitely.” Raleigh threw in, puffing his chest out exaggeratedly and squeezing them. “With titties to die for.”

Ellana frowned.

“We’ve heard only rumours…” One of them added, but Ellana wasn’t exactly paying attention as to who.

She blew at the steam and took another slow sip. She doesn’t really want to tell them the truth. But she doesn’t want to lie, either. I mean, they’ll know soon enough. _What would they think of her then?_

The thought sunk like weight on deep waters. Is it too much to keep this brief moment of peace? Can’t she pretend, even for a few hours, that she isn’t the Herald, that the weight of the world is not on her shoulders?

 _Their disappointment can wait,_ she decided. Ellana mustered an interested smile, hoping she could distract them long enough to find an excuse to leave. “So, you were all recruited here, then? In Redcliffe?”

“Aye,” exclaimed Noland. “Grew up in the farms near Dennet’s. Knew Scout Harding, too. We joined the Inquisition together as soon as we could, couldn’t just sit out as history unfolds.”

Ailis chuckled, “you and your damn heroism.”

“I’m only in it for the adventure, meself. Most find scars on a man rather fetchin'." Raleigh winked.

“Says you.” Noland said drily.

“Watch your trap, kid.”

“Apostates razed our home,” Phil scowled to the flames. “Now my family are no better than refugees. Damn this Breach. Damn the mages and the Templars. Damn them all.”

Ellana clung to her cloak tighter, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Hear. Hear. World’s gone crazy,” Ailis opened a sack full of nuts and began to eat them, offering it to the others. “Was staying at the Winterwatch Tower till people there started worshipping the Rifts. Got out before they sealed the gates. Joining the Inquisition seems to be the only sane choice.”

Somehow she felt embarrassed and terrible. These people willingly joined the Inquisition, risking their lives, taking responsibility while she… she is waiting for the first chance to bail out. _Blessed hero, indeed._ Ellana drank to keep herself from commenting.

A soft crunch alerted them to a newcomer. It had a distinct noise that can only come from a bare footfall not the stomping harshness of heavy boots. Before she turned, Ellana knew it was Solas. Like, who else would walk around bare-footed? She was Dalish and she wore shoes. She found his brows were furrowed as he moved ever closer to the light. The dark shadows beneath his sockets were very telling.

“Did Varric’s snoring wake you?”

Solas scowled. “ _Wake me?_ It literally followed me to the Fade.”

Ellana swallowed a laugh. _There's a mental image._ She still has half of her tea left. She offered it to the mage who took it and downed it like it was hard liquor.

His face twisted and he shuddered.

Raleigh arched a brow. “Something wrong with the tea?”

Solas wiped his chin with his sleeve and frowned as he returned the now empty cup to Ellana’s hands. “It is tea. I detest the stuff.”

“Well, happy to oblige,” Raleigh deadpanned, eyeing him disapprovingly as Solas made his way to her.

That sobered Solas a bit as he sat on the unoccupied side of the log, nursing his head like it carried the worst of headaches. He rubbed his face, blinking his eyes into focus. “I meant no offense.”

Ailis threw a nutshell at Raleigh, “calm your tits. Not everyone wakes in the morning like a cock and for the record," waving her hand at Ellana’s direction. "...she ain’t no bitch in heat.”

Raleigh reddened. Noland and Phil burst out laughing. Even Ellana in her moroseness couldn’t help but chuckle along at that.

Now that Solas was here, she found a reason to depart before their queries will be beyond her capacity to evade. Hearing rumors about _her_ were disquieting at best and terrifying at worst. She didn’t want to hear more. She already has enough to worry about without adding what the rest of the world thinks of her. Or their _grandiose_ expectations.

“Solas, can I have a moment? There’s something I need to discuss with you.” Ellana tried to smile reassuringly but as always, he read her like an open book.

He stood up and held a hand out, “a walk?”

She accepted his offer and straightened. She gave a slight bow to the circle, a bit formal, she was far too self-conscious to loosen up. “Thank you for your generosity everyone. I will remember them kindly.”

“Aye, Ellana. We will see you in the field.” Raleigh said, almost pouting. The last word sounded like a question. Ellana just nodded.

As they left, she heard Aisli laughing, “told you she wasn’t interested.”

Raucous laughter followed them as Solas weaved them past the shrubs and walked down to the foot of the knoll. It provided an overview of the little hamlet by the Crossroad. They were walking side-by-side, the frosty air made them shuffle closer than usual and their arms grazing intermittently as they try to find solace in each other’s warmth.

Solas was wearing nothing more than his long-sleeved cotton tunic and his tight-fitting green leggings. Ellana wondered how he was not shivering, but of course, he’s a mage so it must be magic. Even so, she offered to extend her cloak to him, which he respectfully declined. He was eyeing the settlement with mild interest. “Sorry, I hope you didn’t mind me dragging you out of there. I just…needed to get out. Take a breath.”

“Not at all.” Solas turned his attention to her. His brows furrowed. He must have noticed she was massaging her still healing arm beneath the cloak.

Still, she plastered a grin, “so, so much for Inquisition sleep-over?”

“It was an ill-conceived idea,” he said tiredly. Solas leaned closer, their shoulders bumped. “Do you require anything to dull the pain?”

His breath was hot on her cheek, a jarring contrast to the chilly waft of morning breeze. “I – I, no. I don’t think so.”

He held his hand out invitingly and Ellana felt the compulsion to abide. He looked at the fresh blood clotting on the bandage. “My spell was intended to accelerate your body’s mechanism to heal itself. Anymore magical interference would have disturbed your natural healing cycle and you would then be susceptible to chronic wounds. I estimated that with proper rest it would be well by morning. I must have miscalculated.”

Ellana stilled.

Solas mistook it for worry and explained, “usually, a simple tonic can assuage what rest and magic had not.”

“No…I – I wasn’t able to rest well last night.” She tried avoiding the Fade as much as she can. She didn’t know it would have such an effect.

Solas was quiet. He studied her for a while longer and Ellana felt very put upon.

 _W_ _hy does he have to look so intense?_ His attention started to wear her down and his nosing around was irritating her. Why, oh why did she think talking with him was a good thing. Well, she didn't thought her escape plan through. _You hardly thought anything through._ Ellana gritted her teeth and turned away, “are you going to berate me?”

He exhaled.

She snapped her head swiftly, expecting to find a frustrated face, but instead Solas looked at her with sympathy.

“Is it warranted?”

She huffed. “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

Solas took her frustration calmly. She was being petulant and they both know it.

Ellana flushed, embarrassed by her own outburst. “I’m sorry.”

“You have been made to endure a lot during a brief period of time. It is understandable.”

She laughed dryly. “Half of it was my own fault. We wouldn’t have gotten ambushed had I listened. I wouldn’t have gotten stabbed if I had listened. I wouldn’t have had to…” her hand shook as she remembered the feel of lacerated flesh. “There was a plan and I just had to…” She wrung her hands. “Come to think of it, none of these would have happened if I had listened to from the start.”

_The Mark… the worshipping. All of it._

They were walking slowly, heading further back to the East Road. The sun had risen, painting the sky into splashes of cool pastel. She heard Solas breath in, savoring the quiet breeze with a lingering inhale.

“Many of our reassuring everyday notions are merely lazy conventions,” Solas started. “Take the common belief that the sun will rise tomorrow. While this is based on many prior observations, still such assumption that the future will always resemble the past is a logical fallacy as no such certainty exists.”

Ellana snorted derisively, “is that your way of telling me that my foolish stumblings were a good thing?”

“I am only stating that if you had not acted ‘foolishly’, _as you claim,_ there is no certainty that an alternative outcome would have been better.” He looked at her sideways, “all assumptions about matters of fact are based solely on probability. We have to make do with the belief that the chance presented to us now is the best we have and act accordingly.”

“That’s a roundabout way of making a point. It’s making my head hurt.”

Solas laughed. “You did ask for a berating.”

Ellana couldn’t help but grin at that, “yeah, yeah. It’s just that…” The sun was just beginning to peek through the hilltop, bright and hopeful. Ellana shrugged, “sometimes I do wonder if someone else had gotten the Mark. Someone… more suited than me? I feel like things would have fallen _more_ into place.”

“The Inquisition has barely begun.”

“I know. It’s just… I mean, like – if it was someone like Cassandra. Someone capable. Someone who can lead and be looked up to. Or, you know, even you. I’d bet you could have done better.”

Solas’s amiable air disappeared and his face was suddenly schooled to a neutral, “That is debatable.”

They reached the gates and Ellana patted a dew covered mossy rock. Moisture clung to it, nothing her thick cloak couldn’t handle. She slumped unceremoniously at the top, a wet squish as her weight settled on it. As Ellana squirmed into a more comfortable position, something hard jabbed her on her pelvis. She wiggled the thing out of her pocket and the stone ear of Fen’Harel poked out of her hand.

“Oh, it’s the talisman.”

Solas turned to her and eyed the small thing warily.

In the clear light, she noticed a small hole drilled across its temple on both sides. _Oh, it’s supposed to be a pendant._ Or someone tried to make it into one. An odd choice.

Ellana searched her pockets for the leather pouch she always kept her coins in. She emptied it out with its one silver and three bronze coins. She folded the leather and tucked it back, keeping the thin long string that tied it. With steady hands, she licked the tip and twirled them in her fingers until the ends became pointed, then she began the grueling task of passing it through the small hole.

“What are you doing?” Solas sounded intrigued.

She shushed him as she focused on her task. Ellana caught the string’s end as it passed through and began measuring the length and tying them securely several times over. Ellana wore the talisman, its flat side resting coolly on her sternum. She tugs it for good measure and beamed. “There.”

“Your people would say you are courting danger wearing that.”

Mihris words echoed in her mind, _pray that the Dread Wolf will never catch your scent…Pray._

Right. _To which indifferent deity again?_

She played with the pendant, watching the ashen stone redden as it was moistened with the sweat of her fingers.

“I used to live in the Drylands, back when we used to travel with the caravaneers. It was a strange place. Dust storms were lethal and a herd of hallas were more dangerous than a pack of wolves. They can clean acres of grass. Then the hares, the sheep and the horses would starve. The wolves were scary and they could have killed us but if we killed any of them, the hallas would roam free with no one to hunt them. Then their numbers would grow so much that the grassland would have died for sure and us along with it.” She smiled as she looked up to him. “I know the stories about Fen’Harel. But then, I remember the wolves and hallas and I thought maybe the stories aren’t what they seem.”

Solas regarded her solemnly, “you are wiser than most.”

She threw her head back and barked a tearful laugh, and after a beat, he joined her with an amused and slightly confused chuckle. Wiping her eyes, Ellana toyed with the pendant, smudging the darkened surface, willing it to clean. But the stain stayed and she gave up on it altogether. “There’s irony, right there.”

“I never meant it as such.”

“Like seriously? Have you been paying attention?” Ellana motioned at herself with her arms. “Like, Thedas to Solas? Where were you the last couple of weeks?”

Solas crossed his arms. “You give yourself too little credit. Excessive modesty is not a virtue,  _da'len._ "

“Ugh, enough with the ' _da'len'_. It makes you sound so old. It's also annoying."

He only raised a brow.

Ellana curled her knees to her chest and waved her hand as if to dismiss their current discussion. “So, enough about me. Tell me about you?”

"Why?"

She startled at the sudden hint of suspicion in his voice. "Oh, so you're allowed to pry and I'm not?"

Solas sighed. "Fair enough. With so much fear in the air..." His face schooled evenly. “What do you wish to know?”

Ellana shrugged. “I don’t know... what do you want to talk about?"

"That is a rather broad request." 

"Fine. How about the Fade?"

"What about the Fade?" he replied coyly. 

She was so tempted to roll her eyes at him. "Well, what made you study it?”

"It is the source of my magical abilities. Understanding it is of great importance." Solas offered as he leaned on a tree trunk. "Admittedly, it is less flashy than throwing fire bolts. But to find remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything."

"So, you just... sleep?"

“I grew up in a village in the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. As I learned to control my dreams with full consciousness, I began to explore. I treasured my dreams. So much so, that being awake became a challenge," he smiled wistfully.

Her brows shot up. “You grew up in a village?”

“Is that truly so surprising?”

“I thought… you were Dalish.” She blushed, embarrassed about how she got that wrong. “You know the lores and stuff. Plus you can speak Elven…”

“I wear no _vallaslin,”_ he sneered the last word subtly, but still the disapproval was very much felt.

“I just thought, well ...I've heard of clans leaving behind a child and..." She puffed a breath. "...Sorry. I knew very little and assumed the worst."

“It is rare for a clan to disown one of their own. Every Age, those with elven blood are becoming fewer and as such, most Dalish consider every child precious,” he sighed, like the idea physically pained him. “But that does not mean it has not happened. Templar scrutiny can force a clan to abandon a mage-child when their collective survival is at stake.”

“Not just mages, though.” _Or children for that matter._

Solas regarded her with a questioning look.

Ellana debated whether she was going to tell him or not. She shrugged. He’s not Dalish, surely the story will not make him look at her any differently.

“My Da,” she began slowly. “…Remember when I told you my Ma was a _jongleuse?_ ”

“I remember.”

“She was born in Val Chevin. She was… a city elf and devoutly Andrastian. She has not taken to Creator worship and… well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. The thing is, my grandfather was the Keeper of Clan Lavellan then and he had intended Da for another. He didn’t agree. He was supposed to hunt a beast to offer to his intended and become a true hunter. The final rite to earn his _vallaslin._ But instead, he married ma in the Chantry without the knowledge of the clan. When my grandfather found out, he disowned him. He refused him the rite and he was exiled.” Ellana played with the pendant. The many stone eyes of Fen’Harel were unseeing. “ _Harellan_ , they mocked him. All because he loved.”

She replaced the pendant and its coolness matched that of her heart. “Since, I was the result of that union, naturally they hated my guts. Well, I mean not all but some.” She shrugged, forcing joviality on her voice. “But Deshanna’s nice and I have Adahlon and Tae. Ivun is horrid, but he’s like that to everyone.”

Solas was tensely quiet as he mulled her story through. Time drifted with their silence. From the way the muscle on his jaws twitch, he seemed to be quite affected by it, more so than she thought. After a while, Ellana sighed and stood up, smacking her backside clean, “I think we better head back. Cassandra might be looking for us.”

Solas didn’t seem to have heard her. “ _Harellan._ ”

Ellana stopped.

“Modern elven defines the word as ‘ _traitor to one’s kin’_ by assuming its roots came from the word _harel_. ‘ _To deceive’._ But tracing its etymology to _harillin_ or _herallan_ , it can be more accurately translated as either _‘opposition’_ or ‘ _noble struggle’_.” Solas was watching her carefully. Poised and loose except for the self-conscious dart of his eyes as he studied her for any minute reaction.

She lifted her gaze to face him, first with surprise that slowly morphed to a warm smile. A cloud has lifted from her chest and she hoped her simple gesture could relay to Solas how sincerely grateful she is of his words. _S_ _o, it was not such a curse as they thought. Da would love to have known that._ The Dread Wolf talisman rested heavily between her breasts and she clasped it. _If the clan knew, will they forgive him?_ _Will they accept him? Will they accept me?_ Strong emotion warped her voice, wishing for the words to come true.

“So, Fen’Harel and his noble struggle, huh? It sounds like a good story. I hope one day people will hear it. I hope he redeems himself.”

Solas' eyes widened. He parts his lips to speak, but for once he was speechless. Whatever he was expecting her to say it was not that.

Ellana saw his hand shook as his knuckles grazed his lips, biting at the stretched skin over the bones, a violent blush dusting his cheeks.

She blinked, surprised. “Solas?”

He was shaking his head, refusing her eye contact and his ears were still impossibly red. There was a strange kind of embarrassment plastered on his face and when their gaze met, Ellana could see a deeper hidden vulnerability.

She started to feel genuinely alarmed. “Solas, are you okay?”

Solas looked deeply troubled. When she leaned closer to him, he recoiled. He knew she saw… _something._ Whatever it is, it frightened him enough to close his eyes, look down and gave a long exhale. Ellana tried to reach once more out, but he twisted subtly away. She gave him his space. When he finally looked up, the lightness was still in his eyes but it felt like a sham. Whatever it was that was opened it was closed off now.

He gave her one of his usual disarming smile, a fragile tilt at the corner of his lips. “Forgive me, I am… fine.”

Then he began chuckling, a slow building crescendo. The sound was both sharp and mocking.

_What's so funny?_

There’s a joke in there somewhere she isn’t privy of. To say Ellana was confused would be an understatement.

Then he cleared his throat. “Forgive me. There are times when a topic excites me and…I sometimes forget and be overwhelmed,” his blush had simmered down to a tint. “It has been sometime since I’ve experienced such… open exchange of ideas. Outside of dreaming, that is.”

_What a lonely thing to say._

“I know what you mean.” Ellana patted his arm, “I tried to show the clan once, a way to improve the _aravels._ Well, they didn’t like that. Said I was too much of a _durgen’len_. _”_ She made a mocking face as she slurred the Elven word. _Like it’s a bad thing to learn from another culture._

Quietly, he said, “it is their loss.”

He watched her with heavy lidded eyes. The soft glow of morning sun gilded his lashes turning them into fine golden strands. Ellana tucked a wayward hair to her ear. She watched him follow the motion of her fingers, trailing the length of her neck and downward before coming right back up to her eyes.

“You are not what I expected.”

Ellana stilled. It sounded like a confession. _A confession…of what?_

The ringing of steel alerted her. She turned to the sound. Inquisition soldiers began their morning routine of exercise just a distance away. The hamlet was fully awake now. “I think we really should head back.”

She started to move forward in a daze. Her pulses were erratic. She pressed a hand to her chest, letting the cold stone of the Great Wolf dig into the heel of her hand. A part of her was unsure what to expect – _to feel –_ if she looked behind.

“Ellana.”

His voice made her turn back. Ellana flushed at how eagerly she did so.

Solas shifted bashfully. He looked like he regretted calling her.

Ellana can’t help but be warmed by the sight. It’s kind of…adorable? _Adorable._ Solas. _Right._ Never once did she think that she would associate such words with the stoic mage. The odd thought made her giggle.

The sound perked him up and he colored. “I thought…” he coughed. “Well. I was wondering if you would like to continue our talks, preferably somewhere more interesting.”

“Oh, and where’s that?”

His answer was a small expectant smile. It took Ellana a moment to realize he meant the Fade. _Of course, where do mages go for anything interesting?_ Her looks must have darkened since his smile fell. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to suggest –”

Ellana breathed out. “Okay.”

“– knowing your stance regarding the Fade and magic -” His lips snapped shut. Solas blinked disbelievingly. “You agree?”

“I…I should have agreed before. I can’t keep running away from my dreams forever. And you know the Fade more than I do, who better to show me the way?” Ellana looked down on her feet and fidgeted. “I…I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

Warm fingers stilled her shuffling ones, the touch was feather-light. Ellana looked up to him. A short gust ruffled her cloak and hair but she did not feel any of it, only the trailing tenderness as he swept her silvery strands from her cheeks and tucked them by her ear.

“And you need not have to be."

"Chuckles, Glowy!" Ellana saw Varric waving at them from a distance. "Cassandra's about to raise a search party!"

His hand snapped to his side like a spring. Solas cleared his throat and Ellana chuckled nervously.

There was an amused shaking of Varric's head. He was straightening his red tunic when he neared them, patting it for an invisible lint. He eyed Solas, winking, "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

Varric laughed, "I'll be the judge of that." Then the dwarf turned to her, "My, Glowy! Don't you look lovely today. Such an _inspiring_ sight."

"Don't think I don't know what you are doing, Varric." Ellana deadpanned. "I wasn't born yesterday."

He looked only too pleased.

"Sorry I ruined your moment!" He called out as she and Solas walked separately back to the direction of their tent. Varric's laughter trailing them all the way.e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chronic wound Solas mentioned is just an HC I did for the limitation of healing magic. It means that if healing magic is used without restraint, the patient's body becomes dependent to it and less likely to develop the necessary functions to heal itself, crippling the body's regenerative capabilities and making future wounds slow to recover without aid.


	13. 'Neath Bond and Blade IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reason to fight for. 
> 
> Demi-godhood. 
> 
> And Rifts are far stranger than Ellana initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N a bit of a shorter chapter
> 
> I love you HEZ! thank you again for beta-reading!!! you help keep this story alive <3

Ellana watched the group huddle over the map. Corporal Vale was debriefing them with the troubles that continued to beleaguer the area, moving counters as he pointed out Inquisition camps and key intelligence about the whereabouts of possible hostile encounters. Much of the concern centered on the skirmishes between fugitive mages and rogue Templars.

Varric was sent out to investigate the leads for the Lyrium Smugglers in a nearby Thaig, near Lake Luthias. With him was Warden-Constable Gordon Blackwall of the Grey Wardens, who was recruited by Agent Charter at the behest of Leliana. The Order of the Grey Wardens was historic and influencial, having them at the side of the Inquisition will most likely help.

Corporal Vale had scoured the encampment for additional men to go with them when they hunted for the Rifts. And Charter would accompany them in their investigation as well, much to Cassandra’s consternation.

“Harding would need additional scout to help her track down the Templar encampment along the West Road.”

Charter then said, “the missive was clear. I was tasked to assist in the investigation of Carta activities. Lyrium smugglers are our fast gaining threats.”

Cassandra leaned forward from the other side of the table, a map of the region was spread wide, topped with several letters and weights. The Seeker jabbed a finger down to emphasize her point. “This is imperative.”

Charter straightened uncomfortably. “I understand, but I do have direct orders from sister Leliana, Seeker.”

Cassandra glowered at the agent.

Charter looked very uncomfortable. Still, much to Ellana’s amazement, the small elven woman didn’t buckle down and melt on the spot. _Quite a feat, that._

Cassandra finally grunted before dismissing Charter with an irritable wave of her hand.

Solas frowned as he watched both the elven agent and Cassandra leave the tent to prepare for their departure. “The lack of decisive leadership in the Inquisition will soon be its undoing.”

“The Council can’t seem to decide which of them should take up the mantle of Inquisitor,” Adrian commented, leaning over the table and tracing the path their morning excursion would take. “I think the Left and the Right Hand are the obvious contenders.”

Ellana nudged him at his side. “If you had a say, who would you support?”

“Seeker Cassandra, definitely.” Adrian took a generous bite out of his apple and continued. “You know, the last Inquisitor Ameridan was a dragon-slayer. Seeker Pentaghast came from a family of renowned dragon-slayers. She managed to kill one, too, and within the grounds of the Grand Cathedral to boot. That’s how she earned her place as the Divine’s Right, well, among others.”

Solas chuckled. “Is that the merit of your vote?”

Adrian shrugged. “We Chantry folks like our traditions.”

“Who would you support, Solas?” Ellana twisted to the mage, one eyebrow rose.

“Either would suffice. I would rather prefer they decide quickly.”

“Who would you support, Ellana?” Adrian asked back.

Ellana tried to pretend thinking, but if it was between the two women, she already knew her answer. “Cassandra.”

She did not relish the possibility of Leliana becoming Inquisitor. Gods only knew what she would do.

Adrian nodded his approval. “Then the Seeker it should be.”

Ellana grinned. “Looks like the Seeker Pentaghast has some admirer.”

Adrian threw the apple core at some corner and scoffed. “As a warrior, sure. I mean, Cassandra’s beautiful, but…” he shrugged.

“Is that why you joined the Inquisition, then? To see the famous dragon-slayer in action?”

“No, not really. My brother died at the Conclave.”

The blunt and casual answer stunned Ellana. Even Solas gave him a short glance.

But before she could say anything, the flapping sound of fabric signaled Cassandra’s return. “You, three. The horses are saddled. Let’s go.”

They began the day by tracking the Rifts along the stretch of Dwarfson’s Pass then curving along the skirts of the south-eastern mountains. Before midday, they had reached the Inquisition camp nestled between the valleys. They rode on their horses, quietly if not for the occasional disinterested banter. Shafts of light peered through hills and trees as the group weaved through the combe resplendent with fat rams and flowering embriums.

Since the crossbow Varric had made for her had its critical components broken it would require repairs. He even offered to have them upgraded once he found the time and the parts needed. He eyed the merchants along the hamlet for supplies before they had all set out.

Ellana settled back to her Da’s dagger and another heavier and bulkier longsword now strapped to her side.

Cassandra had offered it to her for self-defense. Longer reach meant less likely being stabbed back, or so she reasoned. Better than a shortsword, Cassandra had advised her, using both her hands would give her better grip and overall balance.

_Right._

The first time the men-at-arms saw her seal a Rift they gasped. Murmured exclamations of ‘Maker’ and ‘Blessed Andraste’ were thrown about. There were looks of amazement, wonder and adoration passing through their faces that Ellana felt like fidgeting under their attention. Sometimes, when they think she hadn’t noticed, she saw them watch her with uncertainty, and sometimes with fear. The men-at-arms certainly acted differently towards her than before.

_I suppose hearing rumors about her acquired ability and actually seeing it are two completely different experiences._

As they travelled, Ellana’s mind drifted to Adrian, sitting silently behind her. They were sharing a horse, with Ellana sitting near the saddle’s horn as Adrian held the reins. After losing his courser in the skirmish the day before with the smugglers, they decided not to give him a replacement, unless the good Ser will be contented of the available farm horses no self-respecting knight would be caught riding on.

The party was composed of Cassandra, Adrian, Solas and four more man-at-arms Corporal Vale had assigned with them. They were Sers Willem, Norton and Oswald whose liege lord was Arl Teagan of Redcliffe. They acted as temporary vassals of the Inquisition provided that their martial skills are used for defending the people of the Arling. Lastly, was a sole Orlesian chevalier named Guillame who they said came to the encampment to offer his sword to the cause. He couldn’t even speak a word of Trade. The three other Fereldan knights mocked him incessantly because of it. Or simply because he was Orlesian.

“Never ask a man if he comes from Val Foret. If he did, he’ll tell you.”

“Or if he does not, why humiliate him?”

They shared glances and cackled.

“What do they mean?” Ellana whispered to Adrian.

“Val Foret is known for having the best school for chevaliers.” Adrian frowned as he followed her gaze to the two younger Fereldan knights. “They’re being quip about it. Never you mind them, Ellana.”

Ellana twisted to her side and saw Ser Guillame ignore the Fereldan knights’ obvious mockery. Maybe it was a good thing he understood none of it. She chanced a glance to Adrian once more.

“Adrian?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry… about your brother.”

“…Hm.”

Ellana turned forward and quieted.

After a pregnant pause, Adrian began. “He was a mage, you know. A senior enchanter in Cumberland. Quite the ladies’ man, from what I heard.”

 _A mage and Templar sibling._ _What an odd thing._

As if reading her thoughts, he continued. “It was because of him I decided to be a Templar, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

“He showed early signs of magical ability. Naturally, my mother was afraid of the implication. Our family are devoted Andrastians, you see. But affection won over piety and mother decided that she could acquire a tutor for him, give him enough knowledge so that he can learn to control his magic. Typical reasoning. Alphonse was his name and he was the eldest. He was followed by my sisters Alexis, Alana and Arianne. Then me.”

Ellana glanced back at him. Adrian’s face was contorted by so much guilt. She held one of his hands and began caressing it until she felt him unclench. He let out a breath.

“When I was twelve, I got into a fight. Maker, I can’t even remember what for, some stupid inconsequential things, I’d wager. And there I was pained and bruising and three other kids were beating me up. Al found me like that. One of the kids said something… nasty about me and well, big ol’brother got angry. He froze the kid’s tongue, threatened to shatter it too. The look on their faces when they ran from him…” he sighed. “I got scared too because Al wasn’t supposed to use his magic. But he said it was funny and we laughed it off. Until the Templars came.”

Ellana heard the protesting squish of leather glove against the reins. Ellana sat straighter. The horse kept a steady pace. She could not look back and see his face directly, but she could feel the tremors of grief and resentment from his voice.

Adrian swallowed. “I’m sorry. This is not your problem. You have a lot on your mind at the moment.”

Ellana shook her head. “If you want to talk, I’d gladly listen.”

The arms around her trembled and Ellana’s heart sank. She tightened her hold on his hand and for a moment, she thought she would hear him cry. But it never came. Ellana kept her face forward, giving him a shred of privacy as he worked himself out, thumbing his knuckles to let him know she was there for him. _Gods only know, he was there for her, too._

She looked around their companions. Cassandra was at the vanguard, trailed by the Fereldan knights, their backs to them. Solas was the closest, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. And Ser Guillame was at their back, oblivious to the true extent of the conversation. Though Ellana saw him look at them curiously from time to time.

Ellana glanced at Adrian once more. He was having a hard time working out what next to say, so she opted to ask instead. “Seeing him leave for the Circle… that made you decide to be a Templar?”

_As penance?_

She felt the breath of his heavy sigh ruffle at her neck. “Everything that was supposed to be his became mine. I thought that wasn’t fair. When I reached my majority, I left. Father was furious.”

“He didn’t try to stop you?”

“Oh, he did try, alright,” he chuckled darkly. “He didn’t want to lose both his heir and his spare. He even threatened the local Chantry if they decide to take me against his will. Told him I’d go to the Wardens instead if he wouldn’t let me. I suppose he thought that was worse. He knew well how bloody serious I was.”

“Couldn’t one of your sister’s inherit the title?”

“They could if there are no other male heirs to contest their claim.” Adrian explained. “Alana will hold the family estate once father passed. Both Alexis and I are ordained and we both can’t hold any titles outside of the Chantry hierarchy. I think Arianne is pursuing her craft in Antiva.”

“…Does Cassandra know? Or Commander Cullen. I mean… about what happened to your brother?”

“No. I think this is the only time I’ve mentioned him since leaving Ostwick.”

Ellana felt her chest constrict. What he did for her, the risk he took by directly disobeying Leliana… It now made sense. And the guilt she had felt then and how he had eased her through it. He had told her what he also needed to hear for himself.

And the grief. With all that has happened after the Breach opened, he hadn’t had time to mourn. And yet…

_You helped me despite needing help yourself._

“You are a good man.” She squeezed his hand and swallowed the lump threatening to burst from her throat. “A _very_ good man.”

He choked a laugh. “You make me sound like a hero.”

She leaned back and gave him a small but sincere smile. “You are to me.”

His eyes were watery and he gave her hand a grateful squeeze.

 

 

By early afternoon, their group managed to close another Rift. The stratagem was simple: the knights surrounded Ellana defensively while Solas casted a dispelling magic while Cassandra and Adrian used their purging abilities along with him. By then, the Rift will be weakened enough that spirits from the Fade could not pass through. And then, Ellana would permanently close the tear using the Mark.

The first time Ellana felt them use their dispelling abilities all together was… _odd._

Solas’ spell felt like glassine was wrapped around her senses. The connection between the spirit and material realm was buffered, it felt closer to a temporary reprieve rather than outright separation. Cassandra’s almost the same, too. The moment they used them, Ellana swore she could see both of them glow within, like the Fade guided them to the seams of the Veil that needed stitching.

But Adrian’s was different. If the Rifts were like flame, Solas and Cassandra doused them with a wet cloak until the little embers become moist charcoal. Adrian’s purging was like a landslide. The smite was so abrupt and immediate that at close proximity, Ellana felt like she was dumped and buried in thick soil.

Regardless of method, the Rift’s magic dimmed and vanished as the Mark’s will reinforce the Veil once more.

“Sealed as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.” She turned to see Solas walked towards her, a pleased look on his face.

She gave a relieved smile. “For a moment there, I feared the Mark wouldn’t work.”

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it. It seemed to do the trick.” Adrian helped her up into the saddle.

“Sound advice as any,” she said. Ellana smiled at him, a knowing one.

Adrian’s face softened. “Happy to oblige, my lady.” He bowed theatrically before stepping on the stir-ups and climbed up.

By the afternoon the group was progressing well towards Winterwatch. It was a decrepit holding settled at the foot of the mountain. The slight tingling from the Mark informed her of another Rift nearby. The Mark guided her to the precise point where the Veil is weakest, almost like a compass. _So, this must be the place Ailis meant._ Archers patrolled the battlements, arrows in hand as their group neared the portcullis.

“Halt!” One of the patrols ordered. They looked like refugees themselves, with their patchwork armor obviously collected from different sources.

“I am Seeker Pentaghast. We are from the Inquisition.” Cassandra exclaimed. “We’ve been informed that a Rift was sighted within your holding. We only wish to close it.”

The patrol archers eyed one another. Then they signaled for someone down below. Ellana heard the familiar sound of iron lock being unbarred. The wicket gate opened and a woman with elaborate robe passed through and greeted them. “Inquisition. I am Speaker Anais. You spoke of the one who closed the Breach at Haven. The so called ‘Herald of Andraste’?”

Ellana fidgeted.

“Yes, and we intend to close the Rift within.” Cassandra replied.

“Aye, the Rift.” Anais said dismissively. “And pray tell where is this Herald?”

All eyes turned to her. Ellana started to sweat.

Anais’ eyes narrowed. “She is an _elf.”_

It was Cassandra’s turn to scowl. “She _is_ an elf _.”_

Anais ignored the Seeker’s rebuttal and walked forward, standing directly in front of Ellana’s horse. She could see disapproval in her face as she raked her _vallaslin_ with her eyes. “So, a _heathen_ claims to be Andraste’s chosen. But are you? The Maker has not told me.”

“I-I don’t know,” Ellana replied.

“Ha!” Anais laughed derisively. Ellana flushed. “As I suspected. Your face is marked by your devotion to your false deities. Stories of you mastering the Rifts are nothing more than blind heresy.”

 _Gods, this woman is worse than Hahren Isene._ Which is saying _a lot._ Ellana gritted her teeth, “ _I_ can seal Rifts.”

“Then prove it.” The Speaker’s eyes shone. “Show me that the Rifts bend to your will, the will of the Maker. Show me the power you wield!” With her signal, the portcullis opened and welcomed them in.

The sight that greeted them was so preposterous Ellana didn’t even know where to start. Half of the fortress was in rubble. Along the wooden planks that made up a balcony, more people could be seen, lit behind by candle lights, their faces solemn as they listened to the sermon at the courtyard. Most of the crowds were jostling about the bailey, many of them kneeling in prayer. A woman, probably a former Chantry mother or sister, could be heard advocating the divinity of the green goop of horror. Further within, Ellana could make out the distinct ripple of the Rift.

_Speaking of horror…_

The Mark flashed, greeting the Rift. The sermon quieted. Ellana felt their eyes watched her as Adrian guided their horse to a trot. Their gaze followed her like slime. _Is this the kind of reception I’d be expecting in the future?_ Ellana shuddered.

The group dismounted. As they walked towards the Rift, Ellana spotted a noble lady and her servant whispering

“My lady, I’ve heard the rumors of what caused the destruction of the Conclave.”

“We need not heed rumors. We know the truth. It was the Maker’s will. He guided the Divine and all the others to His side.”

Adrian frowned at her side. _Gods._ Ellana wondered which was worse: that these people worshipped a remorseless god or that they believed that the massacre at the Temple was some sort of divine gift.

Solas walked behind her, “I suppose it is only natural that some would turn to worshipping the Breach… If only in hopes of appeasing it.”

As they made their way down the stairs and towards the basalt halls that housed the Rift, Ellana felt all her senses increased ten-fold. The murmuring behind them echoed at the back of her head, a symphony of voices repeated in loop. She looked back behind her and watched the people amass atop the stairs. They were going to watch her close the Rift.

Ellana could smell the frantic beating of their hearts.

_Fear._

It was so palpable she felt she was choked by it. The Rift pulsed and Ellana felt it within the hollow cavities of her ribs. Her heart was beating wildly. She too was caught by indescribable terror. Ellana clutched her chest just to remind herself to breathe.

A hand touched her shoulder. She peered at Solas’ calm face. “This Rift is no different than the ones you had already closed.”

 _He’s right._ Ellana forced her hands to her sides and nodded.

She studied the Rift before her, growing and feeding at the fear being offered to it. She felt sorry for the people here. And strangely enough, she felt the Rift was not only being sustained by fear, it too, _felt_ afraid.

_What are you afraid of?_

The Rift seemed to rumble in response. Perhaps, the spirits too were being pulled into an unkind world against their volition. _It must be a terrible experience for them._ Ellana felt pity. As soon as the thought entered her mind, the Rift seemed to shift.

It seemed to answer her back.

She felt the spirits beyond the Rift clutched her heart, making it beat at a rapid pace. She held her chest with both her palms. The stone pendant pressed to her sternum, grounding her. _Be calm._ A whine buzzed at her ears. She raised the Mark on the Rift. _It’s alright. Be calm. It’ll be over soon._

A light tendril of magic latched on to the Rift like a thread and began stitching it closed. There was a small puff or a gasp and a feeling of relief seemed to wash through her. It was as if the spirits were relieved they are no longer spilling unwillingly into the chaotic material world.

In that minute moment, Ellana understood them. In some ways, their plight was not so dissimilar to hers. She was as trapped in this mess as they were.

The sudden sound of clapping jarred her out of her thoughts. The crowd was watching her, mouths agape. Speaker Anais was at the forefront, face white with shock. “Maker, I was a fool to have doubted you.”

Ellana shook her head, “it’s quite alright.”

But Anais was sternly repentant, bowing low, she said, “how may we serve you, Herald of Andraste?”

All others followed. Ellana was at a loss. She scanned her companions for what to say or do. The men-at-arms looked equally bewildered. Solas was impassive while Adrian signaled her by nudging his head. Ellana reiterated her panic by flapping her eyelashes uselessly. Finally, Cassandra went to her and murmured. Ellana repeated them loudly, her voice squeaking from discomfort.

“Uh, have umm the believers spread word of the Inquisition!”

Anais didn’t seem to mind her awkwardness. She nodded solemnly, like she received a direct message from the Maker Himself. “As you say, Herald of Andraste. Some few will remain here. The rest will go forth and do your will. When the Maker calls you to your great purpose, remember that we served you.”


	14. 'Neath Bond and Blade V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inqusition forces are caught between the Templar and Mage skirmish and Ellana had to contend herself with the burden of knowing that soldiers will lay down their lives for her. 
> 
> What can she do?
> 
>  
> 
> _What will she do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, ma serannas to my lovelies Hezjena2023 and DoreNaErgoSum! Your input in this chapter is very much appreciated!!! I love you!
> 
> Slightly, long ass chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

After they’d left Winterwatch, the group spent the night by the Inquisition encampment near Lake Luthias. They had reached it in time before dusk fully set in and shroud the hinterlands in darkness. Beyond the waterfall to the south was where the Thaig Varric and the Grey Warden went down to. They haven’t returned yet.

A red-headed dwarven woman dressed in standard Inquisition scout armor greeted them as they neared the camp. “Seeker.” Then her attention turned to Ellana and down to the glowing green hand hidden beneath bandage and bracer. She gasped in surprise and gave a perfunctory bow. “Herald. Scout Harding at your service.”

Ellana nodded and mumbled awkwardly in return.

The group dismounted. Adrian helped her down the stirrups and another scout took the reins of their horse.

Ellana glanced back at the familiar face. “Noland, right?”

“Y-You… you remember my name…?” Noland looked shocked and blushed as soon as he was addressed. He bent his knees. “I – I mean… Y-Yes, Your Worship.”

Ellana stopped him before he dirtied his knee on the damp dirt. “Please, Noland. Only Ellana.”

“O – Of course.”

“Where are the others?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean Ailis and the rest. Well, uh, they were sent out as patrols along the West Road.”

“Yes, Your Worship.” Harding chimed in. Ellana tried not to wince at the honorific. “The locals are building watchtowers. Brigands have been aggressively stealing crops around the farm belt. They ought to know better than to try to bully us locals.”

“That is good to hear,” Cassandra injected. “Come, we have done much today. Rest is sorely needed.”

“Of course, Seeker.” Harding replied. “I’ll tell the others to prepare your lodgings and your food.”

This particular encampment was bountiful. Their pottage was seasoned with herbs and boiled bones. A fat thickened the surface of the soup. They were handed out horsebread and for the hungry stomachs, it was sent from heaven. Now only if Ellana could have _bradh_ as a desert, especially one sweetened by halla milk, everything would have been perfect. And dinner was lively and eventful. One of the knights, Ser Oswald, shared a story about the lake. They were sitting round on a campfire

“They say a spirit dwells in the lake,” he began. “The girls of the village bring it daisies and ask for love, but rarely does it listen. You see, for what lies deep beneath did not care for the girls’ affections, but for a greater sacrifice. They say that lotuses grow fat by eating the bloated corpses of jilted lovers.”

Some of the jittery scouts kept glancing back to the lake as if expecting the undead to rise to the surface. Then the knights began to laugh. It was quickly followed by the sound of groaning, probably coming from those same jittery scouts who were irritated by the duplicity.

Ellana warmed her hands on the hot bowl. Solas sat beside her with his own generous serving. “Interesting story.”

“Is there any way to prove it true?”

“I believe so, yes,” he gave her a knowing smile. “And perhaps you would also like to see for yourself?”

 _Ah. Their trip to the Fade._ She had half hoped Solas had forgotten. Fat chance, that. “Fade hunting for a murderous spirit? Lovely.”

“A fascinating encounter I would imagine.”

“Great. Just so you know, I’m not playing the part of the jilted lover.”

He gave a short laugh. “I shall see you, then?”

“Yeah. So, do I need to do anything? Any preparations?”

“No. Sleep and I shall find you.”

The knights erected their tents around the camp’s parameters, alongside other Inquisition agents. Solas and Adrian each had a tent to themselves. The abandoned cabin was allocated to her and Cassandra, it was small space divided by partition. They had prepared a simple bed cushioned by haypiles on top of the rackety support with fur blankets set aside for her. A long low table was transformed into a makeshift bed and readied just the same. Cassandra had laid claim to it.

After being full, Ellana drowsed off almost immediately.

When she awoke it was still dark. It was colder now and Ellana rolled to her side to look for her furs. The haypiles beneath her body squeaked.

_Squeaked?_

She opened her eyes and found she was lying on moistened timber. The inky waters of the lake lapped quietly down under. Ellana sat up. Stunned.

_How did I get here?_

The fog was rolling around her, white and almost milk-like in its thickness. The cold permeated her bones and Ellana shuddered. When she looked up she saw something - _someone -_ in the middle of the lake.

There in the center stood a man.

He had a long face and he was very tall. Ellana knew immediately that he was not a person. He seemed to have simply materialized from the darkness. She could only make out the pale glimpse of his face, his hands and his bare feet as he rested them at the surface of the water. But it was his eyes that arrested her: blue fire churning like crashing waves on black sea. And it was not his irises, he _did not_ have irises, or pupils, or whites. It was just the blue flame burning within his sockets, within his skull, illuminating him from the inside like a drowning inferno.

The man cocked his head and smiled at her. His teeth were yellow and they were sharp. Filed.

Ellana almost thought it could draw blood even on his tintless lips.

He walked – _floated –_ towards her.

Ellana felt the very air freeze all over. And even before he reached her, she could smell the aroma that wafted beneath his blackened cloak: rotting fruit.

They were face to face and he leaned low, his face inches away from hers. She could see his skin was not skin, but rather granular, like tiny pebbles similar to that of a bird’s feet. He raised a finger to his lips.

No. Not a finger. It looked like a talon, curved and sharp.

 _Shhh…_ his mouth silently intoned.

His grin was that of a lunatic. He raised one hand forward and Ellana frightfully saw it descend to her shoulder. The warmness of his palm contrasted to the glacial temperature around her and the contact felt hot and scorching, despite her layers of clothing. His touch seared her soul. Like a branding.

She yelped out of shock and she stumbled backward and bumped against something solid.

“Ellana?”

She quickly looked up and saw Solas’ worried face.

Ellana stuttered. She whirled back to the lake. It was calm, reflecting the pinkish sky of dawn. It was morning. _A dream. I was just dreaming._ She brought her hand up to wipe her face, but stop short from the sharp smell on her palm. It smelled bitter with a tinge of sweetness, like an overrippen, crushed berry.

She must have been hallucinating, but…

_How did she get here?_

“You should have that cleaned.”

Ellana jolted. “Huh?”

“The Blood Lotus.” He pointed at her palm.

The plant’s juices were starting to get sticky. “Oh. Oh, yeah. I should.”

Solas walked her to a nearby stream after she protested washing by the lake. An unbidden thought arrested her and she imagined talon-like fingers would drag her down. Thankfully, Solas did not inquire to the source of what it may seem to him, her inexplicable fear.

“Had you rested?” Solas asked.

“I… I think so.”

“I did not find you in the Fade.”

His questions were pointed, but not unkind. Ellana turned to him sharply. Solas eyed her curiously in return. She found she had no answer to that. _But wasn’t she just dreaming?_ “Oh. I well… I mean, I don’t know?”

Solas raised an eyebrow.

_Dumb answer, I know._

Ellana slowly got up. Her breeches were still dampened by the morning dew. _How long was I lying outside?_ “Sorry, can’t even get proper sleep right,” she joked lamely.

His brows furrowed.

Ellana turned the conversation away from her. “So, did you get to see it? The… spirit of the lake?”

“Yes. It was a spirit of Valor.”

 _The man-spirit-thing I saw didn’t look too encouraging._ She would have imagined Valor to look like a heroic warrior not a demon that just crawled out of the Void. _Are spirits of Valor meant to look frightening, like a test to see if you’re courageous?_ Somehow, even that explanation didn’t fit.

“– see, the origin of the lore stemmed –” Solas was still talking with her, but soon his voice petered out. “It would seem I have bored you.”

“Huh? Oh, no. I was just… thinking.” Ellana twiddled her thumbs and kept glancing at the ominous body of water. “Sorry, I think I’m still a bit groggy.”

Solas followed her eyes and lapsed to his own thinking. He reached a hand out and felt the temperature by her neck. “You are cold. And pale.”

“I’m always pale,” she shrugged. Solas didn’t look like he bought that excuse one bit. “Look, your concern is sweet, but I’m fine.”

He dropped his hand to his side and let out an unconvinced hum.

After a short breakfast, Ellana prepared for the day. She buckled the straps to her waist and readjusted the sword and dagger attached to it. She waited for her companions by the horses, feeding the courser with fruits she kept from her own meal. The mount nibbled at it enthusiastically. Soft crunching sound alerted her to another. Noland came into view.

“Oh, Noland. Good morning.”

The boy blushed. “Y-You, too, umm He – I mean, E-Ellana.” He was looking incredibly suspicious, hiding something behind him.

Ellana pretended she didn’t notice anything. “What can I do for you?”

“I – uhh, well. Here!” He thrust out his hand and Ellana saw several wildflowers. They were white with a red tinge in the center.

“What’s this?”

“T-They’re called Andraste’s Grace. They’re a rare flower that only blooms in Ferelden. They’re for you.”

“For me?” Ellana took the small bundle of flowers and smelled them. The flower was deceptively simple but its fragrance… _Oh._ It was sweet, almost like those luscious and expensive petit-fours she once saw in an Orlesian bakery in Wycome that made the air thick with the sweetness of milk and honey, though the flower has an added sharp peppery undertone. “They’re wonderful. _Thank you.”_

The boy looked adorably flustered. Ellana took one flower and motioned for the scout to come closer. He obeyed, a look of curiosity dancing in his eyes. She tucked one in the gaps of his chest armor and secured it. Ellana tapped it once. “There.”

Noland looked down on his chest in astonishment. “I… have never received a favor from a lady before.”

Ellana grinned. “Well, you have mine.”

 

 

 

Another small Rift was sighted downhill. Fort Connor was a brooding skeleton of an edifice. Very tough-looking, practical and Fereldan. One could almost smell the dog-piss just by staring at it. The Rift was, thankfully, a short work. _If only all of the Rifts are the same._ Well, so far, none had posed too much trouble. Unfortunately, within the building lies a deeper trouble.

“Red Lyrium.” Cassandra snarled.

The red mineral had its veins jutting from the stone floors, spreading across the walls and forming stalactites on the ceiling. It was painful to look at, Ellana could barely make it to the entrance. It seemed that Solas and Adrian were equally repelled, the knights, however remained with Cassandra and assisted her with… _whatever_ it is she does with the thing. The Seeker was determined to secure the area, avoid witless wanderers to stumble onto it. The three of them joined the horses outside.

“Lyrium simply doesn’t spread to the surface,” Adrian said. His face was contorted with disgust.

Solas leaned on a surviving piece of still intact railing. “Indeed. One would presume it was purposeful.”

Adrian shook his head. “Who would do such a thing?”

_Who, indeed?_

Ellana walked around the dilapidated courtyard, encircling the moderate space for some time if only for something to do. The rest of her companions were too preoccupied with securing the Red Lyrium. She could see them mull over the implication of the infection spreading topside, as the dwarves would say. As she neared the outer edges, she heard a faint crying sound. Ellana stopped short.

It was gone.

_Must have been the wind._

But as soon as she took another step, the sound drifted again. It sounded like sobbing.

Ellana looked back to her companions. Cassandra was not on sight while the knights looked like they were dragging something heavy. Solas and Adrian’s attention were equally pre-occupied. _Never mind._ She would just check it out. If it’s any trouble, she’ll make sure she’s in shouting distance. Still, Ellana felt for the blade by her side. The steel still gave her the comfort of false security.

She followed the sound to the deep copses of trees. As Ellana got nearer, it became distinctive. It was a child’s cry. Soon enough, she saw a young boy huddled beneath a pine.

Ellana jogged to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

The child flinched at her voice.

“Look, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

He gave her a curious once-over.

Ellana tried her best to look amiable. She studied the boy in turn. He looked no older than ten or twelve summers old, brown hair with big, brown eyes. Dirt clung to his face and his clothes, like he rolled over them. Tear-streaks revealed the tanned skin underneath.

Ellana held out her hand. “Where are your parents?”

His lips shook and he cried even harder.

“Would you like me to help you find them?” she said.

There was a hopeful look in his eyes and he nodded aggressively. Ellana reached out her hand once more and this time the boy took it.

“So, where are you from?”

The boy wiped his tears, spreading the wet dirt across his cheeks. “…our farm’s over there.” He pointed to the flatlands below.

Ellana could see it was burning. _Gods._

“They told me to run, mother did.” The boy explained. “But I’m so lost and alone.”

_I don’t know if his family is still alive._

“Will you take me to them, lady?”

Ellana hesitated.

But he continued pitifully. “Please… I am afraid to go there alone.”

Ellana eyed the field once more. It was quite a distance.

The boy tugged her at the sleeves. “Please?”

 _Damn it._ She can run fast. She would probably be back before the rest of the team noticed. She pulled the boy up and smiled warmly. “Lead the way.”

They both jogged down the knoll, the boy seemingly excited at the prospect of seeing his family again.

Ellana was worried though. She sure hoped they made it. The cabins around them were reduced to a charred pile, the crops left to rot with no one to tend them. It was not a hopeful sight. As they moved forward, dread clung to her guts.

_All this fighting’s hurting are the common people. What do the rogue mages and Templars hope to gain from any of these?_

“Over there! That’s our house.” The child called out.

Horror struck Ellana as she saw smoke escaped at the barred windows. They both ran to it.

The cabin was surrounded by thick grey fumes. Ellana covered her nose with her hand. The wooden hovel looked off kilter. The wooden walls were leaning more to its left. Ellana blinked. Somehow, she had gotten it wrong. It now twisted to its right. _Damn it._ The damn smoke was tearing up her eyes and it made the cabin dance like it floated on turbulent sea waters. She felt nauseated just by looking at it. It reminded Ellana of the time when they boarded the Windstrider as they sailed from Wycome to Highever.

“ _Help us!”_ Someone screamed from the inside.

Jolted by the precarious moment, Ellana quickly rushed to the door. She gripped the door handle and tried pulling it open. _Damn it! It’s stuck._ She looked all over her for something to use, but only charred wooden beams and broken crates were around her. Ellana unsheathed the sword Cassandra gave her and began hacking the wooden door. After her third slash, the blade stuck onto the wood and try as she might, Ellana did not have enough strength to pull it off.

_“P-Please! Hurry!”_

_No!_

Ellana anxiously drew her dagger and began nicking at the side, trying to dig a hole between the door and its frame. She kicked the damn door too, for good measure.

The fires were becoming brighter and hotter. The people inside began to scream. “ _Ah! Ah! Ahhh!!!”_

“No!!! Hold on!” Ellana hooked the blade of her dagger and twisted at the timber viciously. “Damn it!”

The boy was panicking and sobbing beside her. “Lady, _please!!!”_

Ellana was sweating, her dagger barely made an indent. “I – I can’t… I can’t open it!”

The child held onto her arm and pointed at her Marked hand, “can’t you use your magic?”

 _What?_ Ellana looked down on her hand. She had never used the Mark on anything other than the Rift. _Can I?_

“Please, lady! Open it!” the boy pleaded hoarsely.

She sheathed her dagger and clenched her Marked fist. _It’s worth a try._

“Get back! Away from the door, all of you!” She ordered the child and the people behind it. She raised her Marked hand, ready to will the cabin door open.

_“ELLANA!”_

She whirled behind her. Ellana saw Solas panting at the base of the stone foundation. He was out of breath, likely he ran all the way here from the fort. He snapped his eyes to her and held out his hand. “Ellana, please! Come here.”

“Solas!” Ellana’s spirit soared. “Solas, we’ve got to help them.”

But Solas eyes were wide and he looked pale. With forced calm, he said, “come here to me.”

Ellana’s jaw dropped. _What in the Void – Is he daft? People are dying, godsdamnit!_

“Ellana, listen to me! _Please!”_

 _“Lady, please!”_ the child wailed in tandem. The sound of fist pounding on the other side was all Ellana needed to come to her own conclusion.

_Damn it! If he won’t help, then it is up to me._

Ellana ignored the mage and returned her focus to the cabin and without further hesitation, she raised her hand high and attempted to use the Mark.

Strong magic yanked her off her feet and the world tumbled around her. A barrier cushioned her fall as she rolled back towards Solas, landing just a few feet behind him. He was snarling. With deft movements, he twirled his staff until energy constricted at its base before slamming it down on the ground.

Horror washed over Ellana as she saw bolts of electricity homed towards the little boy.

The child shrieked as it hit him brutally at the chest and he fell back.

Ellana scrambled up quickly. “ _Gods! Solas! **Are you insane?!** ”_

Solas pulled her back roughly that Ellana almost stumbled anew. “ _Fenedhis, woman! Get behind me!”_

Indignation made her bold and Ellana swung her arm to push him off, but Solas was quicker. He gripped her wrist and whirled her behind him persistently. “I said, _behind me.”_

Their altercation was cut short when her Marked hand started to tingle familiarly. _A Rift is nearby._ Ellana hissed as it started to throb painfully. They both alerted when the familiar storm of energy came from within the burning cabin. Solas stepped forward, one arm pushing her back as he positioned his staff forward, battle-ready.

The cabin dispersed like paper ashes in the air, dream-like and surreal. From where it once stood, a Rift churned, green wave of light whirling above them.

Ellana clutched onto Solas’ back. _Good gods! How could she not have realized?_

The child stirred from below the landing, his limbs cracked and twisted in awkward angles, as if trying to recall how they were supposed to work. Ellana could see that the electrical magic burnt a hole in his chest. He bolted up quickly. She watched in terror as the child’s face was nothing more than layers and layers of stretched skin and gnashing teeth.

Solas stepped backwards and he summoned a fist of stone from his hand and hurled it forwards, but the child – _demon!_ – whirled away so fast, it froze the very air it moved in. The cast spell shattered against the empty ground on impact.

Right then, the Rift started to drip with tar-like liquid that started to grow into a large molten rock. Its surface cracked red. Fiery eyes turned to them and it roared, bursting from its hardened black cocoon.

Solas stepped back as the demon grew larger and larger. “These are demons of Rage and Despair.”

The spirit wanted her to use the mark to open the door. But then was it truly as simple as that? And that word… _‘open’._ It was the same word the Breach had repeatedly pleaded to her when she had tried to close it!

“I-I don’t understand. What do they want from me?”

Whatever Solas replied, it was swallowed by a sudden oppressive silence. Her mind halted to a screeching stop. The demons had their gaze locked to hers, disembodied voice echoing painfully inside her head.

_**Open the path. Bring the sky down.** _

“What?”

Solas gripped her tightly, his focus not wavering away from the two demons. His voice was a blur, like screaming underwater. “Do not engage with them!”

_**Liar! Truth breaks at the jaws of Pride!** _

But beyond the engulfing flames of Rage, Ellana could see the spirit bent within, swirling amidst the fires that cannot be quenched. Even Despair, a cold and lonely spirit was stuck frozen in its cage that cannot be thawed. They both looked shriveled and pitiful. Frail hands reached out to her, begging and despondent.

_**Deceived. Darkened. Despoiled. But you are Light.** _

Ellana could feel their fraught and frightened hearts. It was strange. She found she could relate to them. Her hand twitched forward. The spirits seemed to delight at her amenable response. And they cooed.

_**Be one with us.** _

A cone of ice sprouted from the ground, impaling the Rage demon. It roared in pain and as it swung its molten limbs, liquid fire splattered around Ellana and Solas, missing them by inches. Solas quickly spread a flaming glyph at the ground and Despair shrieked as soon as it triggered one of the traps. But all of his offense only served to enrage the demons more. The grass blackened where Rage crawled and long fiery claws tried to swipe at them, but Solas quickly blocked it with his staff, he twisted and stabbed the demon to its side with the staff’s blade. Its surface cracked. Solas whirled his staff, blunt crown now pressed on the same spot and it glowed blued, ice shot out from it and froze the demon from within. It growled in pain.

Ellana felt their anguish, radiating in her mind and in her body, as if she was the one being attacked. She stumbled, gasping. “...So-las…!”

Solas saw her with alarm.

“Away with you!” He commanded the Veil and with force, flung the demons off.

Ellana kneeled in pain. The demons’ frantic thoughts throbbed inside her mind. She ground her teeth as their voices and protestations grew louder.

Solas cooled his palms and quickly swept her cheeks and temple with it, temporarily easing her growing migraine. He kneeled, offering his back to her. “Quickly now.”

Disoriented, she climbed on his back. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs tried to find purchase at his midriff. She rested her aching head on the curve of his neck.

“I am going use magic to carry us forward. Hold on tight,” he warned.

She nodded deliriously.

He began to cast his spell, but before the magic could propel them out, ice wormed its way to his feet and they both tumbled at the jarring stop. She fell off of him. Ellana heard him curse as he dispelled himself from the grasping spell and crawled to her.

Despair was about to freeze them solid, but Solas was faster in rolling them out of danger.

The demon was persistent and its ice spell followed them through and Solas had to cast a barrier to shield them both to no avail. The demon’s magic was relentless. She could feel cold had seeped to Solas’ arm despite the barrier. He gritted his teeth in obvious pain.

Right then, she saw the two figures of Cassandra and Adrian running downhill, with two of the Fereldan knights and Ser Guillame behind them. The strength of their combined smite stunned the demons.

Ellana saw white. Whatever connections she had with the demons dissipated and so did the shared hurt.

Solas grabbed her Marked hand and lifted them forward. “Seal it! _Now!”_

Ellana clenched her fist and the Mark obeyed. The Rift shuddered once and evaporated. She saw the demons fade before them like mist, but not before staring at her with what she could describe as a look of utter dejection.

Ellana didn’t know what to think – or feel.

As the magic sputtered off her Marked hand, she dropped it heavily on the ground. Solas was still gripping her wrist. Ellana turned and found that his face blanched and he looked bilious. Sweat was forming along his forehead and his eyes were blinking in and out of focus.

_Was he as affected by spirits as her?_

Ellana sat up on her haunches and cradled his head on her hands to look at him better. His cheek rested heavily on her palm. He didn’t even object at her manhandling him. “Solas! Are you okay?”

He gave out a raspy breath, but looked otherwise unharmed. Solas untangled himself from her embrace.

Cassandra helped him up. He was obviously struggling, leaning his entire weight on his staff. The Seeker gave him a once over. “There are mages who are pained by the presence of demons,” she gave the two of them a stern look. “You two should not have wandered off.”

“N – No, Solas didn’t… I mean. It was my fault. I didn’t know it was a Rift. If Solas hadn’t found me I –” Shame and guilt made Ellana flush. She glanced back at him remorsefully. “I – I’m so sorry.”

Solas didn’t say anything, nor did he give any indication he acknowledged her words.

“I have spare Lyrium,” Adrian offered.

The mage shook his head. “I only need a moment,” he answered hoarsely. He wobbled to a pile of rubble nearby and hunched low. Ellana could see the arm that caught the demon’s ice spell. There was frost clinging on the sleeves and his fingers on that side were still slightly blue.

Guilt ate at her. Ellana hoped he only needed rest and not more. But Solas’ reprieve was cut short.

Ser Norton was dashing towards them, pale and frantic. His hand pointed to his left and he screamed.

_**“TEMPLARS! TO THE NORTH WEST!”** _

True enough, a hundred yards from where they are, they could see the outline of many men, steel glimmering ominously against the sun. They were coming along the back of Fort Connor, near Witchwood. Cassandra alerted and hurriedly unsheathed her sword. “Protect the Herald!”

They all scrambled up and ready into battle formations. Cassandra blasted her horn, hoping against hope that help would come on time. The sound echoed through the ever-mounting hills. There was little time to react before a barrage of arrows filled the sky like black rain.

Cassandra commanded. “Shield wall!”

The onslaught continued, pinning their party in the open field.

“When I say,” Cassandra puffed, sharp splinter flicked as the arrowheads pierced through the grain of their steel-reinforced wooden shields. “We run to that wall over there.”

Ellana followed the tip of her chin to the broken wall tower behind them, to their right. Fire laid claim to the once proud stone structure.

“If we let the shield down, we’ll be killed!” Ser Willem protested.

“If we stay, we will be!” Cassandra fired back. She eyed all of them one by one, daring them to contradict her. Ser Willem’s face went red and his mouth puffed with barely restrained anger. Still, he said nothing as he continued to eye the Seeker with unruliness. Cassandra pointedly ignored him and rolled her shoulders. “Steady, now…”

Another volley rained down. Their shields now looked more like a porcupine. At the few breaths, when archers are preparing to nock for their next shot, Cassandra bellowed. _**“GO!!!”**_

There was a moment of hesitation from the Fereldan knights, a hesitation that proved fatal.

Raising their shields high above their heads, the group ran. But the rogue Templars were wise. They have segregated their team of archers. As one group prepared for their next shot, another had nocked their arrows and was at the ready. Arrows were fired to the air and Ellana knew they could not outrun them all. _Oh, gods!_

Blue magic wrapped at her skin. Solas’ familiar barrier enveloped her. She dived forward as soon as she felt near enough to the stone cover. An arrow nicked her at her ankle and she tripped on her feet as she hissed in pain. There’s no blood, but _damn_ did it hurt!

Cassandra caught her as she stumbled, Ellana turned back and saw Adrian and Solas had made it to cover in time. The rest of the knights made it through except Ser Oswald.

Stretched thin amongst many, the barrier was short-lived. By the time it faded, the first shot staggered his tired arm and the last one took advantage of the impact as his shield lowered and pierced through his unarmored neck. He gurgled and fell. More landed on him like needles on a pincushion. By the end of the flight of arrows, Ser Oswald’s was a shredded tapestry of red and gore.

Seeing the face of their fallen companion, Ellana watched as anger surged to Ser Willem and Ser Norton.

Ser Norton cried as he pushed himself off and made to run to the fallen knight, but Cassandra got a hold of him and pushed him back down. Ser Willem gripped the pommel of his blade, but Adrian saw his insubordination in advance and was quicker to unsheathe his sword and pointed the blade’s tip on the senior Fereldan knight’s neck. Cassandra and Ser Norton glared at one another.

Cassandra snarled. “ _Get in line_.”

Ser Norton looked indignant, but after a moment, his eyes wandered to the dead knight at the field.

If Ser Willem had not doubted the Seeker at such a critical moment, the barrier would have given them enough time and Ser Oswald could have survived. Anger danced in the old knight’s eyes and he looked down, loosening the grip on the hilt of his sword and mumbled. “Norton, stand down.”

The younger knight swallowed and nodded. Cassandra pushed herself off and Adrian put his sword down, but did not sheathe it. He remained alert.

“We can’t stay here.” Solas voiced out their fears. “The Templars would soon attempt to surround us.”

Ellana eyed their surroundings. The next structure that could shelter them was too far. The trees to their sides were bare and burning.

“…T-There’s nowhere to go.” Ellana whimpered.

Cassandra nodded. There was a grim determination in her face. “The Herald is still our utmost priority. We have to ensure she makes it out of here.”

“We left our horses at Fort Connor,” Ser Willem said. To move from here to there would mean running out in the open field. An easy picking for any trained archer.

Cassandra eyed Solas. “How long can your barrier last?”

“With a group our size, not long I’m afraid,” Solas replied.

“If it’s just the two of you, will you be able to reach Fort Connor?”

Understanding dawned on Solas and he gave a small nod.

Ellana turned to Cassandra in alarm. “Seeker –”

“Alright, listen up.” Cassandra interrupted. “We need to distract the Templars. We have no ranged weaponry with us at the moment but we’ve got our shields. We’ll charge in for an assault.”

“Preposterous! We got no horse.” Ser Willem objected.

“We’ve got feet.” Cassandra glowered.

Ser Willem looked torn.

She hastily continued, “we run from shed to shed.” The Seeker’s hand drew a zigzag in the air. “Once we are close enough to get their attention, Solas and the Herald will run for the fields. It’s imperative that we must keep their attention at us.” Cassandra aimed her and Solas with a fierce look. “Not before, not after. Be precise. You have this one chance, make it work.”

“Understood.” Solas agreed.

Ellana protested. “But that would mean –”

“It would mean Thedas will have a chance.” Cassandra retorted.

_But you will die. All of you._

The knights had a grim look. Even Adrian was impassive.

“...Adrian?” Ellana whimpered.

He gave her a tight smile and, quoting his family’s words, simply said, _“Bold in deed,"_ and he winked, trying his damn best for normalcy.

For her.

Tears sprung from her eyes.

_They are all willing to do this. To die, so I would live._

The burden was too much to bear.

“Seeker!” Ellana grabbed the warrior by the arm. Cassandra gazed at her resolutely. “I…M-Maker watch over you.” Ellana’s eyes drifted to all of them. “To all of you.”

Cassandra’s posture softened momentarily. With an unwavering nod to the men around her, they began to move out.

She and Solas waited with bated breath as the warriors maneuvered the field.

Templar archers kept showering salvo after salvo, but this time Cassandra and the knights were prepared. As soon as they were near enough, they rallied with a battle cry. They were a terrifying sight. The rogue Templars, despite their advantage seemed to reconsider.

Solas tugged at her arm, making sure she was prepared for their flight. Ellana gazed at their companions rallying figure and swallowed the pain deep beneath her chest.

As luck would have it, they heard a blast of warhorn thundering from the West Road.

 _Could it be...?_ Ellana could feel their spirits lifted. She dared to gaze behind her cover. A trail of smoke revealed a large number of riders, Inquisition banners raised high.

_These must be the Inquisition men patrolling the West Road!_

A barrage from high above the hills rained down on the rogue Templars, breaking their line. Ellana could see the familiar tan and teal armors of Inquisition scouts. With a thundering shout, Inquisition soldiers washed through the Templar forces, coming in hard from the Templar’s right, and the clashes of steel echoed around the plains.

The knights’ moral sprung and they charged by the Templar’s left. Cassandra was several paces away, signaling the two of them to move. After that, she let out her own rallying cry, and they joined in the thick of the fray.

Ellana could see that Solas was visibly flagging from their earlier encounter with the Rift demons. He tried to hide the shaking of his injured arm from her, but she saw. Still, he engulfed them both under his barrier. “Let’s get to the horses.”

Ellana stumbled along with him. They reached the hills were Fort Connor sat. Scout Noland greeted them at the top of the knoll. Several Inquisition Scouts were with him, guarding the rear flank. Noland gave a salute, a fist to his chest. “Figured they belong with you. Made sure they’re still here when you return.” He motioned to the still tied horses.

“Thank you,” Ellana said.

“Quickly now!” Solas hurriedly re-checked the saddle and practically lifted Ellana up before mounting the courser himself. But before he could snap the reins, the Mark began to pulse violently. It was a warning. A spell was coming. And it obviously wasn’t Solas who was casting.

_No._

Ellana looked behind her, only to see a red ball of fire heading their way. Before she could warn Solas, the fireball hit the beams by their side and exploded. The horse started to panic and its legs twisted, falling over.

Ellana screamed.

Solas caught her by her midriff and moved in a blur, the beast’s poor tortured whine becoming far and distant.

As his spell neared its end, Solas pushed them behind a wall. His injured arm was limping at his side and he was breathing harder than ever.

Ellana knew he was at his limits. “...Solas.”

Solas shook his head to dismiss her concern.

Another loud explosion shook the grounds.

At the northern forest, along Witchwood, where grass lapped the mound like verdant tapestry, a mass of figures emerged. A horde of outlaws descended down, blades and clubs raised high, shouting and hooting in a cacophony of discordant ensemble. One of the scouts cried in alarm.

_**“MAGES IN THE NORTH EAST!”** _

Fireballs surged forth. Ellana saw both rogue Templars and Inquisition footmen scattered for cover from the plains below.

Solas pushed himself up and dragged Ellana with him. Another was aimed at their area and the impact hit a loose stone wall. Rocks and debris showered them. It shook the foundations of the decrepit fort and soon after, a huge chunk of wall fell like a landslide. Solas pushed her out of danger and Ellana stumbled, covering her head with her arms as she curled on the dirt. Dust and smoke filled the scene like miasma, covering everything in a thick greyish-brown. As soon as the shaking ground steadied, she tried to stand up.

“Solas?” Ellana croaked, _**“SOLAS!”**_

Beyond the ringing in her ears, all sounds were miserable groaning and incessant coughing. She stood up and almost tripped at the rubble that littered the floor. Her entire body was covered in dust, puffing at her contours as she walked around feebly and aimlessly. She must have looked like a corpse out of the dirt. The quiet was broken by another panicked shrill.

_**“INCOMIIIING!”** _

Ellana ducked on the ground and curled onto herself once more. A fiery blast exploded above her head, washing her again in another layer of ash and dirt. The loud explosion was too close and it deafened her.

The fog of smoke was now too thick; Ellana couldn’t see the shadows at her feet. She crawled up and saw a lone horse emerge from the blanket of soot and disappeared just as sudden as it fled to the unknown. A bout of piercing silence followed.

Then there were low moaning sounds. Ellana scrambled towards it and croaked. “Solas? Solas! Is that you?”

“…H-Herald-d…?”

Ellana turned to the sound. “…Noland?”

He was propped by on nearby rubble; his body was covered in full by ashes he looked half-buried.

She stumbled onwards, her shoulder hitting the broken mortar wall as she slumped down next to him.

“Noland…Noland…”

“…H-Herald…oh, Maker…I-I c-c-can’t feel my l-legs…”

Ellana stared at the huge stone that toppled over his right leg, directly on his knee. She could make out the silhouette of shin and foot twisted in an awkward angle. Ellana kneeled beside him, cradling his head as he sobbed. He held onto her arms like a child. “P-Please…! I-I-I d-don’t want to d-d-die…”

_“Shh…Shhh…”_

He started twisting and Ellana did her best to calm him down. He moaned in anguish as his damaged muscle stretched in his fumbling. Bloods spurted anew and she hugged him close to prevent him from seeing it. Ellana knew that shock could equally kill a man. “Shhh…Noland. You’re fine, alright? You’re going to live.” When he didn’t respond, she shook him gently. “Noland, do you hear me? _You are going to live_.”

He whimpered.

In the mist a lone outlaw saw them. Death was in his eyes. Club in hand, he stalked towards them. In that strange moment, Ellana did not feel fear; only a vague sense of acceptance. She held onto Noland protectively, burying him deep in her embrace. She turned her back to the assailant, willingly accepting the first blow.

But it never came.

As the outlaw lunged, he was stabbed on his back and then battered to the temple by the blunt edge of a staff. The body fell into a heap on the floor. Solas came to their aid. He was covered in dirt from head to toe, blood dripping from his forehead. Ellana wasn’t sure if it was his or another’s. As he neared, she grabbed hold of him desperately.

“Solas! Solas! You’ve got to help me.” She pointed at the large stone pinning Noland’s leg. “I-I can’t lift it by myself.”

His eyes softened imperceptibly. “Ellana. He is dead.”

She heard him, but the words did not sink in. “No…no! I was just –”

She lifted the young elf from her arms and blank eyes gazed back at her. The last petal of Andraste’s Grace from his scout uniform fell to the ground.

Solas nudged her once more. “We need to leave. Now.” He lifted her by the arm, almost dragging her forward. But her arms were now locked to the dead elf.

“I told him he’d live.” Ellana said, dazed. “I told him he’d live…”

Another fireball and Solas covered them both. It hit a metal post and scattered, a chunk of it hit Solas to his side. He roared in agony as mage-fire crawled across his ribs. He rolled on the ashen ground to douse them instead of simply dispelling it. She heard the sharp whistle before another fireball exploded near them. Ellana dragged Solas behind the cover at the nick of time. They clung to one another as splinter of flames burst around them. Remnant of wooden roof beams creaked dangerously atop them. They were both huddled against the small strip of wall, almost lying to the ground.

Solas had the look of sullen anger and weary desperation, clasping his staff tightly that his knuckles were now white. Ellana came to the realization that their position was dire indeed.

_Gods, gods. I don’t want to die here._

It was at that moment she saw him. Black robes billowing, unaffected by the turmoil that surrounded him. It was the man from the lake.

The man with eyes like Veil-fire.

He lifted a pale hand and pointed at something in the distance. Ellana followed and she saw ephemeral limbs stretched the thin fabric of the Veil as spirits are drawn from the other side. Tiny wisps congregate where magic was most used, lighting around the casters like fireflies. They were spread out and hiding behind trees and mounds. She saw four of them, far off, bombarding both the Inquisition soldiers and the Templars. Then her eyes fixed on the immediate threat, the one who had been pinning them down at the fort.

The one who had killed Noland.

_The mage is right there, just beyond the tree lines._

The Mark began to pulsate.

_Magic. I can use magic, too._

She closed her eyes and clenched her fist. She tried to recall how she closed the Rift. _Intentions, magic reacts to the mage’s desire, that’s what she overheard Deshanna said to her First. Magic react to emotions._

_What do I want? What do I want? Think. Think. Think…_

_I want the fighting to end._

Ellana opened her eyes and saw the world shine brighter than ever. Colors bloomed as her senses heightened. Bold, bright and brilliant. She could feel as each dust fell on her cheeks like snowflakes, only coarser and warmer. She could smell the smoke, the dirt, the leaves and the dews that clung to them, the metals and the blood, all mingling together like a sickening bouquet. She could hear the cries – _no –_ the desires, the rage, the desperation all around her, their collective thoughts were like a disembodied voice echoing within the inner chamber of her mind. She could feel each fluttering heartbeat: the ones surging with courage, the ones brutalized by fear, the ones pulsing of life and the ones that throbbed their last.

Ellana stood up.

She could feel Solas protestations, a distant anecdote and so far, far away.

She gazed at the fields. Shadows clamored like puppets beneath gossamer. Bodies falling, falling, falling… Moans and grunts and steel filled the air. _Herald, Herald, Herald, s_ ome of them had chanted in equal plea and persecution.

She could hear it all - _feel_ it all.

The people, the spirits, the dead and the dying.

She can see ghostly hands pushing the Veil, black silhouettes with their fingers splayed. They were many and they reached out to her and to the dead and to the mages and the spells cast and the purpose and wishes of every man and woman on the field.

Then the Veil began to twist. She saw precisely when and where the Veil rippled as a bolt of magic was willed forth from the Fade. The spell was directed to her. She lifted her Marked hand and green light yawned, swallowing it back to the Beyond.

Ellana could see the mages as clearly as if they were beside her. And in a way they really were. Time and distance were relative. The Fade was a place of possibilities.

And she was possibility made manifest.

Then something broke within her.

In that moment, past, present and future converge. Shafts of light broke through her skin and she understood _everything._

Magic was infinity. A sea of knowledge and memory. No matter how far and distant the winds blow, it will always seek a new shore where it will collect its precious sands and stones to carry at its back and swallow them deep. But just as the waves rose, memories shall resurface, battering a different shoreline, connecting another mind, like a never ending dance.

_Memories never truly fade away, right Ma?_

Her Mark shone once more and she reached out. The world pulsed around her. Everyone and everything glowed. Each was accompanied by spirits, the ever watchful guides. The ghosts of the past.

But some were nothing more than smoke and shadows. Nothing of the Fade reflected back to them. A broken mirror. Something red and small lurked deep, deep, deep inside, small like a seedling. What remained of the blue Lyrium mapped their bodies, trying to reach out, trying to connect. But whatever it was they long for, it was sundered.

_It was not right._

The Mark showered them in green light as a tiny Rift opened above their heads. The shadow people screamed as the magic pulled them in like a vacuum, stretching their limbs and tearing it into tiny shreds. The magic grew and grew. So did the white spots in her eyes.

She saw that the Veil was pierced around the mages, the essences of magic wafting around their being. She looked at them and all she felt was the need for them to understand the world. How all of these, the magic and the mundane, all fell into place. If they could not, she would show them.

They saw her and they shrieked in terror. _**“The demoness! Kill the demoness!”**_

The magic of the Mark touched them and they burned at the raw contact with the Fade. It was as if their own mana and magic were too much for them to comprehend and control.

The air was cut off in her lungs and for a moment, her vision turned to pure white. When her senses returned, she found herself kneeling on the dirt.

Ellana vomited at the sudden sensitization as magic poured in within her, spilling out of her very skin. She could feel herself come apart one peel at a time. A splitting headache debilitated her and she let out an aching gasped. Her ears were punctured by a relentless ringing and Ellana had to grit her teeth to stave off the pain.

The Mark’s magic stuttered and slowly dissipated along with her breath. The hues began to desaturate, returning to a drab and dull grey.

_Everything hurts…_

She saw someone run towards her.

It was the familiar Spirit from her dreams.

She tried to call it out, but her cry turned to coughing. Blood gushed out of her lips. She started to sweat and red fluids oozed from her pores.

_Blood. She’s sweating blood._

The ground shook beneath her and she fell face first. The world continued to spin and buck her off. Blood was pooling under her and she choked on it.

The Spirit knelt beside her, rolled her to her back and cradled her head gently. Strangely, it was now shaped as a person. Its blue-grey eyes were as dark as thunderclouds.

 _‘Ellana’_ , it said. ‘ _Stay with me.’_

It lifted her up as cool magic tried to ease her. But her body began to convulse sporadically. The entire world was now white.

_‘Ellana, please!’_

She could hear the loud pounding of its heart. It was afraid.

 _No, her Spirit was brave._ _It was never afraid._

Bursts of soothing magic erupted from its shaking hands. She felt waves and waves of panic pouring out of it as the magic did not have enough mana to sustain itself.

_‘No, no, no, no, no. No! NO!’_

She tried to ease its worry. Ellana opened her lips to speak. _It’s going to be okay._ But a bubble of blood popped between her teeth and she shuddered.

_**‘ELLANA!’** _

But her eyes closed and everything went silent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to play with the lore that Dreamers are more sensitive to the presence of demons. That is why Solas, and to a certain extent, Ellana as the Mark-bearer, are weakest in their presence. Demons also have the advantage of striking their victims psychologically. Also, magic in the fic are not as common or as easily done by mages in the game to balance out their almost artillery-like powers against mundane weaponry XD
> 
> Next chapter is the last one on the Hinterlands, thank the gods XD
> 
> If you like the work, kudos and comments are appreciated!


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